I 


JAMES  MUNROE  AND  COMPANY 

HAVE    RECENTLY    PUBLISHED 

THE    FOLLOWING    WORKS. 


THE    ARTIST'S    MARRIED   LIFE. 

THE  ARTIST'S  MARRIED  LIFE  ;  being  that  of  ALBERT 
DiiiiER  Translated  from  the  German  of  Leopold  Schefer,  by  Mrs. 
J.  R.  STODART.  First  American,  from  the  London  Edition. 
16mo. 


BEAUTIES   OF    SACRED  LITERATURE. 

BEAUTIES  OF  SACRED  LITERATURE.  Illustrated  by  Eight 
Steel  Engravings.  Edited  by  THOMAS  WYATT,  A.  M.,  Author  of 
"  The  Sacred  Tableaux,"  etc.  etc. 

"  Scatter  diligently  in  susceptible  minds 
The  germs  of  the  Good  and  the  Beautiful  ! 
They  will  develop  there  to  trees,  hud,  bloom, 
And  bear  the  golden  fruit  of  Paradise." 

3. 
MERRY-MOUNT. 

MERRY-MOUNT;  A  Romance  of  the  Massachusetts  Colony. 
Two  volumes,  12mo.  pp.  250  each. 

4. 
VERSES    OF    A    LIFE-TIME. 

VERSES  OF  A  LIFE-TIME.  By  CAROLINE  OILMAN,  Author  of 
Recollections  of  a  Southern  Matron,  Love's  Progress,  Oracles 
from  the  Poets,  Juvenile  Poems,  &c.  16mo.  pp.  272.  Price  83  cts. 

5. 
TAPPAN'S  POEMS. 

THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL,  and  other  Poems.  By  WILLIAM  B. 
TAPPAN.  16mo.  pp.  252.  Price  75  cents. 


6. 

A  MANUAL  OF  TPIE  BOTANY  OF  THE  NORTHERN 
UNITED   STATES, 

From  New  England  to  Wisconsin,  and  south  to  Ohio  and  Pennsyl 
vania  inclusive,  (the  Mosses  and  Liverworts  by  W.  S.  SULLIVANT) 
arranged  according  to  the  Natural  System;  with  an  Introduction 
containing  a  reduction  of  the  Genera  to  the  Linnasan  artificial  classes 
and  orders,  Outlines  of  the  Elements  of  Botany,  a  Glossary,  etc. 
By  ASA  GRAY,  M.  D.,  Professor  of  Natural  History  in  Harvard 
University.  12mo,  pp.  784,  price  $1,88. 

7. 
SYSTEM   OF   THE   WORLD. 

THOUGHTS  ON  IMPORTANT  POINTS  RELATING  TO 
THE  SYSTEM  OF  THE  WORLD.  ByJ.  P.  NICHOL,  LL.D. 
First  American  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged.  12mo,  15  plates. 

"  It  is  rich  in  eloquence,  and  most  eminently  successful  in  its  scientific 
illustrations." —  London  Atlas. 

"  This  is  a  remarkable  work,  not  more  for  the  depth  and  extent  than 
for  the  accuracy  of  its  speculations." — Edinburgh  Courant. 

8. 

THE   SOLAR   SYSTEM. 

CONTEMPLATION  OF  THE  SOLAR  SYSTEM.  By  J.  P. 
NICHOL,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Practical  Astronomy  in  the  Uni 
versity  of  Glasgow.  Third  edition,  with  fifteen  beautiful  Plates. 
12 mo,  English  edition. 

"  Its  excellencies  are  of  the  highest  kind,  and  the  most  seemingly  ab 
struse  points  are  made  perfectly  clear  to  an  attentive  examination." — 
Spectator. 

"  It  is  written  throughout  with  the  utmost  enthusiasm,  frequent  beauty 
of  expression,  and  a  fervent  spirit  of  devotion.  The  plates  far  sur 
pass  those  of  any  other  popular  work  with  which  we  are  acquaint 
ed." —  Dumfries 'Courier. 

9. 
STELLAR   UNIVERSE. 

THE  STELLAR  UNIVERSE:  Views  of  its  Arrangements,  Mo 
tions,  and  Evolutions.  13y  J.  P.  NICHOL,  LL.  D.,  &-c.  One  vol 
ume,  16m<>,  English  edition,  with  5  Plates,  pp.258.  Price  $1,25. 

**£  This  work  is  intended  as  the  first  of  a  popular  series  on  astronomi 
cal  subjects. 


10. 
ESSAYS.      BY  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 

First  and  Second  Series.  Fourth  edition,  Revised.  IGmo,  pp.  320. 
Price  75  cents  each. 

11. 
EMERSON'S    POEMS. 

Poems,  by  H.  W.  EMERSON.    4th  ed.  IGino,  pp.  252.  Price  87  cents. 

12. 
WARE'S  WORKS. 

THE  WORKS  OF  HENRY  WARE,  JR.  D.  D.,  Containing  his 
Miscellaneous  Writings  and  Discourses.  Edited  by  Rev.  CHAN 
DLER  ROBBINS.  In  four  volumes,  now  edition,  12mo.  2  portraits. 

13. 
LIFE  OF  WARE. 

MEMOIR  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  HENRY  WARE,  JR.,  by  his 
Brother,  JOHN  WARE,  M.  D.  New  edition,  2  vols.  12mo.,  with 
portraits.  Price  $1,50. 

14. 
LIVERMORE'S   COMMENTARIES. 

THE  FOUR  GOSPELS  ;  with  a  Commentary  by  Rev.  ARIEL  AB- 
HOT  LIVERMORE.  Two  vols.  12mo.  pp.  318.  New  Edition.  Price 
75  cents  each. 

THE  ACTS  OF  THE  APOSTLES,  with  Notes  and  a  Map.  12mo. 
Price  75  cents  each. 

15. 
HISTORY   OF   FRAMINGIIAM. 

A  History  of  Framingham,  Massachusetts,  including  the  Plantation, 
from  1640  to  the  Present  Time,  with  an  Appendix,  containing  a 
notice  of  Sudbury  and  its  First  Proprietors  ;  also,  a  Register  of 
the  Inhabitants  of  Framingham  before  1800,  with  Genealogical 
Sketches.  By  Rev.  WILLIAM  BARRY.  One  volume,  8vo,  pp.  4b'0. 
Price  $1,50. 


16. 

MARTINEAU'S   DISCOURSES. 

ENDEAVORS  AFTER  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.      By  Rev. 

JAMES  MARTINEAU.    Second  Series.    12mo,  pp-.  292.    Price  83  cts. 

17. 
BURNAP'S  LECTURES. 

LECTURES  ON  THE  DOCTRINES  OF  CHRISTIANITY  in  Con 
troversy  between  Unitarians  and  other  Denominations  of  Christians. 
By  Rev.  GEORGE  W.  BURNAP.  New  Edition,  12mo.  pp.  376. 

18. 
AN  ELEMENTARY  COURSE  OF  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

Being  an  Introduction  to  Zoology  ;  intended  for  the  College  and  the 
Parlor.  ELEMENTS  OF  ORNITHOLOGY.  By  Prof.  CHARLES 
BROOKS.  One  volume,  12mo,  pp.  324,  400  cuts.  Price  $1,25. 

19. 
RICHTER'S    BEST   HOURS,  &c. 

REMINISCENCES  OF  THE  BEST  HOURS  OF  LIFE  FOR 
THE  HOUR  OF  DEATH,  etc.  By  JEAN  PAUL  FRIEDERICH 
RJCHTER.  32mo,  gilt  edge,  pp.  94.  Price  37  cents. 


THE   SILENT  PASTOR. 

THE  SILENT  PASTOR  ;  or  Consolations  for  the  Sick.  By  Rev. 
Dr.  SADLER.  New  Edition,  with  Additions.  Edited  by  Rev.  J.  F. 
W.WARE.  18mo.  pp.  192.  Price  37  cents. 

21. 
ANDERSEN'S  STORIES. 

THE  DREAM  OF  LITTLE  TUK,  AND  OTHER  TALES.  By 
HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN.  Translated  by  CHARLES  BONER.  One 
volume,  18mo.  pp.  176.  Price  37  cents. 

22. 
THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

A  Sketch  by  HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN.      Translated  by   MARY 
HOWITT.      One  volume,  16mo,  pp.  306.     Price  50  cents. 


MERRY-MOUNT; 


A    ROMANCE 


THE  MASSACHUSETTS  COLONY. 


pc  of  our  dear  mother  England,  as  poets  are  wont 
:y  please,  how  \v>uld  slie  appear,  think  ye,  lint  in 
her  head,  and  tears  abundantly  tlowin"  from  her 


direst   necessity  * 

by  heaps  t<>    forsake  their  native  country." —  MILTON. 


VOLUME   I. 


BOSTON    AND    CAMBRIDGE: 
JAMES     M  U  N R  O  E     AND     CO  M  P  A  N  Y 

MDCCC  XLIX. 


4  PREFACE. 

was  the  brief  presence  of  these  rjale  and  misty  apparitions,  vanishing 
in  the  cold,  clear  dawn  of  Massachusetts  history,  which  first  attracted 
me  to  the  epoch.  The  charm  of  the  subject  lay  in  a  wild  improba 
bility,  which  seemed  to  surround  it,  but  which  disappeared  upon  an 
examination  of  contemporary  record. 

The  gentle  reader  is  assured,  and  the  ferocious  critic  is  warned,  that 
the  personages  and  scenes,  which  may  appear  to  be  out  of  keeping,  are 
strictly  true  in  their  coloring  and  spirit.  An  elephant  hunt,  for  example, 
would  hardly  be  more  unexpected  in  Massachusetts  than  a  hawking 
scene ;  a  Hetman  of  Cossacks  as  likely  a  personage  to  meet  with  as  a 
Knight  of  the  Sepulchre  —  and  yet  both  the  character  and  the  adventure 
are  literal  verities. 

As  the  classics  are  growing  unfashionable,  Morton  may  perhaps  ap 
pear  more  of  a  pedant  than  he  would  have  done  two  centuries  ago. 
The  reader  may  very  probably  object  to  his  quotations  from  Horace. 
If  so,  the  quarrel  must  be  not  with  me,  but  with  Morton,  who  is  hardly 
able  to  write  a  page  of  his  autobiography  without  a  classical  allusion  or 
extract. 

With  regard  to  another  point,  it  can  hardly  be  necessary  to  disclaim 
any  improper  motive  in  describing  the  scenes  in  which  the  Liturgy 
and  Church  of  England  are  degraded  by  their  profane  supporters.  The 
spirit  of  the  scenes  is  historical,  and  it  is  to.  the  accidental  presence 
and  the  mad  follies  of  such  ribalds,  who  affected  to  belong  to  the  English 
church  only  to  show  their  ill-will  to  the  Puritans,  that  mucri  of  the 
subsequent  hostility  manifested  by  the  fathers  of  Massachusetts  to  the 
honored  church,  for  which,  upon  leaving  England,  they  expressly  pro 
claimed  their  affection,  may  perhaps  be  traced. 

So  far  as  I  know,  the  epoch  has  not  been  illustrated  by  writers  of 
fiction,  with  a  single  exception.  I  am  aware,  that  in  one  of  the  volumes 
of  Mr.  Hawthorne's  "  Tales,"  is  a  story  called  the  "  Maypole  of  Merry- 


PREFACE.  5 

Mount."  Although  familiar  with  most  of  those  masterpieces  of  ex 
quisite  delineation  and  subtle  fancy,  I  was  so  fortunate  as  never  to  have 
read  that  particular  story  hefore  writing  these  volumes,  and  I  took  care 
not  to  read  it  afterwards,  feeling  sure,  if  I  did  so,  that  my  own  pictures 
would  he  still  more  unsatisfactory  to  me.  With  this  exception,  tho 
ground  has  not  T  helieve  been  occupied. 

Every  man  will  of  course  decide  lor  himself  where   the   line   between 
history  and  romance  should  be  drawn.      As   I  have  concluded  not  t 
my  materials  for  an  article  in  the  .Massachusetts  Historical  Collet' 
I   do  not  hold  myself  at  present  strictly  accountable  for  all  my  authori 
ties,  in  all  particulars. 

As  for  my  sources,  beyond  those  accessible  to  everv  reader,  I  do  not 
care  at  present  to  indicate  them.  I  low  certain  portions  of  Sir  Chris 
topher  (lardiner's  correspondence  were  discovered  in  the  cellar  of  an  old 
house  at  Squantum  —  how  certain  documents,  relating  to  the  Gorges 
family,  were  found  wrapped  about  the  Third  Volume  of  Winthrop's 
Journal,  when  it  was  discovered  in  the  steeple  of  the  Old  South  —  how 
some  workmen,  in  dicing  for  the  foundation  of  a  new  house  in  Blax- 
ton's  six-acre-  lot,  recently  discovered  an  iron  box,  which  to  their  disap 
pointment  was  found  to  contain  not  doubloons,  but  documents  relating  to 
tho  private  affairs  of  one  William  Blaxton,  clerk  of  Shawmut  —  how 
these  remarkable  papers  were  all  which  escaped  the  destruction  which 
befell  his  house  and  library,  and  all  his  clTects,  in  Philip's  war — how 
they  at  last  came  into  my  possession  ;  —  all  this,  and  much  more  ^  of 
worthy  rncmorv,"  I  might  have  stated,  as  the  excellent  Cirumio  has  it, 
which,  however,  must  for  certain  reasons  "  perish  in  oblivion,  and  the 
curious  public  return  uninstructcd  to  its  grave." 

Aiiot h'.T  word — for.  like  the  bellows-mender  of  Athens,  an  author 
sometimes  likes  to  explain  his  roaring.  The  timorous  reader  may  tear, 
from  the  epoch,  to  find  this  an  Indian  story.  The  fear  would  be  natural, 


6  PREFACE. 

• 

for  it  must  be  admitted  that  in  fiction  there  is  "  no  more  dangerous 
wild-fowl"  than  your  Indian,  not  even  "  your  lion."  But  it  is  not  an 
Indian  story.  The  savages  are  left  in  the  back-ground,  although  it 
would  have  been  difficult  and  impolite  to  turn  them  altogether  out  of 
their  country  at  that  early  period. 

I  will  only  observe,  in  conclusion,  that  if  the  epoch  sometimes  seems 
dreary,  and  the  story  dull,  the  dulness  is  intentional,  and  must  be  im 
puted  entirely  to  the  didactic  nature  of  the  subje'ct.  As  somebody  says 
in  the  Spectator,  "  Whenever  I  am  dull,  the  reader  may  be  sure  I  have 
a  design  in  it." 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MASSACHUSETTS    BAY     1 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    LORD    OF    MERRY-MOUNT 10 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  SEPULCHRE 17 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    LUDLOWS    AT    NAUMKEAK 31 

CHAPTER   V. 

THE    MISRULE    OF    MERRY-MOUNT 40 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    BAFFLED    KNIGHT 63 

CHAPTER  VII. 

BIOGRAPHICAL    AND    HISTORICAL TO 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    SOLITARY    OF    SIIAWMUT  77 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

SYMPATHY    AND     ANTIPATHY 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    MISHAWUM    GIANT    RECEIVES    COMPANY 107 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    MISHAWUM 115 

CHAPTER  XII. 

TWILIGHT    MYSTERIES .-144 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    MAY-DAY    REVELS    AT    MERRY-MOUNT  .        .       .       .       .        161 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

CONTINUATION    OF    THE    MAY-DAY    REVELS  175 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MORE    MYSTERY 1ST 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    MINOTAUR 195 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    CAPTURE .  211 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MASSACHUSETTS    BAY. 

A  TEMPEST,  which  had  for  many  days  been  sweeping  over 
land  and  sea,  had  at  last  subsided.  The  ocean  was  still  tossing 
in  stormy  surges  beyond  the  two  external  pillars  of  the  Massa 
chusetts  Bay;  and  even  within  its  beautiful  archipelago  of  tufted 
islands,  where  the  tempest's  ra^e  was  comparatively  powerless, 
the  dark  and  foaming  waves  broke  violently  against  the  shore. 

A  silent,  dreary  ocean,  lashed  a  shore  as  silent  and  dreary  as 
itself.  The  storm,  as  it  careered  over  the  ocean,  had  found 
hardly  a  wilder  or  more  savage  solitude  than  when  it  swept  over 
those  silent,  western  deserts.  As  the  boundless  waste  of  waters, 
rolling  unchanged  through  ages,  even  so  expanded  that  ancient 
wilderness,  unmarked  and  stern  as  on  creation's  morning. 

It  was  the  year  1628.  A  bright  April  morning  had  at  last 
dawned  upon  the  Massachusetts  Bay;  by  which  designation  was 
at  that  epoch  understood  all  the  land  and  water,  with  the  scat 
tered  islands,  shut  up  within  the  two  opposite  headlands  or 
(jateposts  of  Nahant  and  Nantasco. 

VOL.   I.  1 


MSfcltY-MCUNT. 


Near  a  jutting  promontory,  within  a  deep  indentation  of  the 
coast  stood  at  that  day  a  solitary  cottage. 

It  was  in  a  secluded  cove,  with  the  bay  in  front,  the  three- 
headed  hill  of  Shawmut  in  the  distance,  and  the  primeval  forest 
stretching  out,  in  unfathomable  shade,  behind  and  all  around. 
On  the  right  hand,  the  headland  of  the  cove  was  continued  far 
into  the  bay,  by  the  long,  rocky  peninsula,  which  had  already 
been  baptized  by  the  Puritans  with  the  name  of  their  faithful 
friend,  Tisquantum ;  on  the  left,  the  forest  retreated  a  few  hun 
dred  yards,  leaving  an  open  glade  between  the  pebbly  beach  and 
the  wood  crowned  and  rolling  country  beyond. 

The  cottage  was  simple  and  rude,  but  picturesque  in  its 
effects.  It  was  built  of  logs,  which  still  retained  their  dark  and 
mossy  bark.  It  covered  a  considerable  extent  of  ground  ;  the 
thatched  roof  was  low  browed,  with  steep  gables  at  the  end, 
and  two  or  three  windows  were  furnished  with  small  diamond 
panes  of  glass,  a  luxury  which  was  at  that  day  by  no  means 
common  even  in  England.  Over  the  door,  which  opened  on 
the  outside  with  a  wooden  latch,  stood  a  pair  of  moose  antlers, 
and  on  the  ends  of  the  projecting  rafters,  under  the  eves,  were 
suspended  the  feet  of  wolves,  the  tails  of  foxes,  raccoons,  and 
panthers,  and  other  trophies  of  the  chase.  On  the  sward  of 
wild  grass  around  the  house  lay  a  heap  of  game  which  had  re 
cently  been  thrown  there,  —  pied  brant-geese,  blue  and  green 
winged  teal,  two  or  three  long-necked,  long-billed  cranes,  with  a 
rabble  rout  of  plump,  slate  colored  pigeons,  lay  promiscuously 
with  striped  bass,  dappled  sea  trout  and  other  fish.  It  was  evi 
dent  that,  although  the  sporting  season  had  nearly  reached  its 
termination,  there  was  yet  no  danger  of  starvation. 

A  fowling  piece  and  shot  pouch  lay  in  the  neighborhood, 
accompanied,  singularly  enough,  by  a  musical  instrument  resem 
bling  the  modern  guitar. 

A  fair  faced  youth,  apparently  of  some  eighteen  or  nineteen 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


years  of  age,  sat  by  himself,  near  the  closed  door  of  the  cot 
tage,  mending  a  fishing  net,  two  or  three  of  which  lay  stretched 
upon  the  beach  to  dry,  while  ever  and  anon  he  seemed  to  re 
lapse  into  a  profound  reverie,  singing  to  himself  the  while,  in  a 
low,  musical,  but  rather  melancholy  tone. 

The  appearance  of  the  youth  was  striking.  A  few  raven 
locks  escaped  from  a  slouched  hat  of  brown  felt,  around  a  face 
which  was  very  fair,  with  small,  regular  features,  and  deep  violet 
eyes.  A  loose,  dark  jerkin,  buttoned  to  the  throat,  and  confined 
around  his  slender  waist  with  a  gay  colored  shawl,  with  nether 
garments  of  the  same  sombre  hue,  completed  his  equipment. 
He  seemed  to  be  mechanically  pursuing  his  task,  interrupting 
his  plaintive  song  occasionally  to  gaze  with  an  air  of  abstraction 
upon  the  scene  around  him.  It  was  a  lovely  solitude.  That 
iced  sirocco,  the  north-east  wind,  had  paused,  and  the  vast,  skel 
eton  trees  showed  throughout  their  leafless  tracery  the  influence 
of  the  genial  warmth.  The  red  flowering  maples  blushed  with 
blossoms,  the  birches  were  decked  in  their  fragrant  tassels,  and 
even  from  the  sullen  giants  of  the  forest,  the  white  and  black 
oaks,  swung  the  small  pendulous  crimson  flowers. 

The  youth  looked  wistfully  out  upon  the  ocean,  when  he  was 
suddenly  startled  by  the  report  of  a  gun.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  threw  down  his  net,  and  grasped  eagerly  the  firearm  which 
lay  near  him  upon  the  ground.  The  clumsy  musket  of  the 
period,  almost  always  used  with  a  rest,  seemed  altogether  too 
unwieldy  for  the  slender  boy,  but  he  handled  it  with  adroitness, 
and  his  dark  blue  eye  flashed  in  rapid  glances  to  every  side  of 
the  forest,  and  then  out  upon  the  bay,  in  quest  of  apprehended 
danger.  The  sound  seemed  to  have  proceeded  from  the  deep 
thickets  on  the  edge  of  the  promontory  of  Tisquantum,  and 
presently  there  was  another  report  seeming  to  come  from  the 
island  opposite,  at  that  time  the  abode  of  the  Scotchman,  David 
Thompson,  from  whom  it  derives  its  name.  The  boy  ran  down 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


to  the  beach,  and  strained  his  eyes  eagerly  out  upon  the  ocean. 
At  last  he  saw  very  plainly  the  white  sail  of  a  small  boat  be 
tween  the  island  and  the  main,  approaching  rapidly  towards  him. 
A  dark  object  rose  and  fell  upon  the  surface  of  the  water  some 
hundred  yards  in  front  of  the  skiff,  and  as  they  drew  nearer  the 
boy  relaxed  his  grasp  of  the  musket,  and  leaned  leisurely  upon 
it,  while  he  contemplated  the  scene.  A  large  moose  was  swim 
ming  gallantly  for  his  life,  still  unwounded,  but  hotly  pursued 
by  the  boat.  It  was  obvious  that  the  first  shot  which  the  youth 
had  heard,  had  been  fired  from  the  thicket,  and  that  the  animal 
having  been  near  the  edge  of  the  promontory,  had  taken  to  the 
water  with  the  intention  of  gaining  the  opposite  island.  He  had 
evidently  been  received,  as  he  approached  the  shore,  by  another 
enemy,  who  had  fired  unsuccessfully,  but  caused  him  to  relin 
quish  his  attempt  at  landing.  He  was  now  making  directly  for 
the  cove,  and  was  gaining  perceptibly  upon  the  boat,  which  con 
tained  four  persons.  It  would  have  been  easy  for  the  lad,  hid 
den  as  he  was,  to  have  destroyed  him  as  he  approached,  but  the 
gentle  youth  seemed  to  be  no  sportsman,  and  on  the  contrary, 
to  be  gazing  with  an  intense  interest  upon  the  animal's  strug 
gles  for  life.  The  magnificent  creature  renewed  his  efforts,  the 
crest  of  the  waves  broken  already  as  the  water  grew  shoaler, 
dashed  in  his  large  face  and  over  his  splendid  antlers.  Already 
he  was  close  to  the  entrance  of  the  cove.  A  few  rapid  bounds, 
and  his  foot  would  touch  the  beach.  Nearer  and  nearer  he 
struggled,  when  suddenly,  with  an  inexplicable  impulse,  he 
doubled  upon  his  pursuers.  The  cause  was  explained  in  a  mo 
ment,  as  a  second  sail  floated  round  the  other  headland.  Still 
unhurt,  but  bewildered,  he  turned  madly  round,  and  dashed 
straight  as  an  arrow  at  the  first  boat.  The  sportsman,  calm  as 
a  clock,  took  aim  at  the  animal's  head.  The  deer  dashed  on 
ward,  rushing  desperately  upon  his  fate,  when,  instead  of  the 
expected  report,  a  light  click  of  the  lock  told  that  at  the  critical 


MERRV-MOUNT. 


moment  the  firearm,  \vet  with  spray,  had  hung  its  fire.  The 
moose  struggled  slowly  by,  fairly  worried  and  exhausted  by  the 
chase,  while  the  boatmen  threw  a  cord  rapidly  around  his 
antlers,  and  in  spite  of  his  furious  struggles  at  last  captured  him 
alive. 

Both  the  little  skiffs  were  now  near  the  cove.  The  youth  had 
returned  to  his  seat  near  the  door  of  the  cottage,  after  witness 
ing  the  result  of  the  chase,  and  had  listlessly  resumed  his  occu 
pation.  In  a  few  moments  the  keel  of  the  first  boat  grated  upon 
the  pebbly  beach,  and  the  commander  sprang  on  shore. 

"  Well  shot,"  cried  he,  turning  to  the  solitary  occupant  of  the 
second,  who  had  already  furled  his  sail  and  was  making  fast  his 
little  cable  to  the  gnarled  trunk  of  an  ancient  oak. 

"  Well  shot,  jolly  smith  of  Mishawum,"  cried  he,  "  for  I 
should  have  been  sorry  had  you  taken  better  aim,  and  deprived 
me  of  my  lawful  honors.  Say  what  you  will,  'tis  no  easy  matter 
to  hit  a  plunging  devil  of  a  moose,  with  nothing  better  than  the 
top  of  a  wave  for  your  rest." 

The  moose  had  in  the  mean  time  been  dragged  upon  the 
beach  by  two  savages  and  an  Englishman,  all  of  whom  appeared 
to  be  subordinates  of  the  speaker.  The  animal,  which  was  of 
gigantic  stature,  more  than  twenty  hands  high,  with  a  short 
body,  long,  powerful,  but  rather  awkward  legs,  and  an  enor 
mous  head,  adorned  with  magnificent  antlers,  struggled  but 
faintly  with  his  captors,  and,  exhausted  with  his  exertions,  sub 
mitted  to  be  thrown  very  summarily  upon  the  ground  with  his 
legs  tied  together,  while  his  large,  pathetic  eye  seemed  mutely  to 
deprecate  his  fate. 

Robert  Bootefish  was  a  short,  squat  looking  individual  of  fifty, 
with  a  pudding  face,  in  which  a  pair  of  twinkling  eyes  were 
almost  extinguished  by  his  shaggy  brows,  while  a  copper-colored 
nose,  pierced  like  a  flaming  beacon,  through  a  fog  of  greyish 


6  MERRY-MOUNT. 


yellow  beard,  which  smothered  all  the  other  glories  of  his  phy 
siognomy.  He  was  attired  in  a  coarse  doublet  and  hose  of  bright 
crimson,  which,  with  his  long  crooked  arms,  and  short  legs, 
gave  him  something  of  the  look  of  a  boiled  lobster.  This 
worthy  seated  himself  upon  a  stone,  at  the  head  of  the  prostrate 
prisoner,  amusing  himself  in  an  infantine  and  guileless  manner 
by  tickling  the  victim's  nose  with  the  point  of  his  long  hunting 
knife.  His  master,  in  the  mean  time,  was  exchanging  greetings 
with  the  other  Englishman  who  had  just  stepped  upon  the 
beach. 

"  Well,  Master  Walford,"  he  cried,  "a  sight  of  you  is  as  rare 
as  the  sight  of  the  sun  in  this  perverse  New  England  April. 
What  brought  you  to  the  cove  ? " 

"  My  skiff,"  returned  the  other,  sententiously. 

"  See  what  it  is  to  live  by  oneself  in  the  forest.  Your  skiff 
brought  your  tongue,  as  well  as  yourself,  I  suppose  ;  or  is  it  still 
frozen  up,  like  a  dead  reindeer's,  with  the  rest  of  your  winter 
provisions,  at  Mishawum?" 

"  To  say  the  truth,  Master  Morton,"  said  the  smith,  "  I  only 
floated  down  with  the  tide  to  look  in  upon  Sir  Christopher,  this 
morning,  to  see  if  he  had  returned  from  his  expedition  to  the 
psalm  singers.  If  I  had  not  met  you  and  your  moose  by  the 
way,  perhaps  I  should  have  extended  my  voyage  as  far  as  the 
Merry  Mountain,  as  you  call  it." 

"  Come  when  you  like,  and  as  often  as  you  like,"  cried  the 
other;  "  with  your  tongue,  or  without  it  —  you  shall  always  be 
welcome.  We  will  rub  off  the  rust  from  it  I  warrant  you.  You 
shall  find  it  run  more  glibly  when  oiled  with  a  drop  of  right 
rosa  solis.  And  that  reminds  me,"  said  he,  interrupting  him 
self,  while  he  filled  a  little  tin  can  from  a  hunting  flask  in  his 
pouch,  and  presented  it  to  his  companion —  "Drink  a  drop  of 
his  own  nectar  to  salute  the  orb  of  day  ;  't  is  not  often  that  you 
have  seen  the  one  or  the  other  of  late."  The  smith,  nothing 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


loth,  pledged  his  jovial  companion,  who  continued,  as  he  re 
filled  the  cup  for  himself —  "  To  our  better  friendship,  Master 
Walford,  and  trusting  you  may  find  more  jolly  companions  than 
your  friends  the  wolves,  ere  another  spring  cuts  our  throats  with 
her  double-edged  east  winds.  But  I  wrong  yon  sweet  south 
western  zephyrs,  breathing  upon  me  so  wooingly,"  cried  he, 
taking  off  his  cap,  and  snuffing  the  air  with  affected  ecstasy. 

"  '  Frigora  mitescunt  Zephyris  —  ver  proterit  acstas,'  as  our 
friend  Horatius  Flaccus  hath  it ;  —  ah  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  you 
have  no  acquaintance  with  Horatius  Flaccus." 

"Never  met  the  gentleman  in  my  life,"  returned  the  smith; 
"  but  a  Pokanoket  I  should  think,  by  his  language.  I  never 
could  make  head  or  tail  of  their  lingo  in  my  life." 

"A  Pokanoket!  Hear  him  not,  shade  of  the  laurelled  bard 
of  soft  Venusia  !  A  Pokanoket  !  a  Roman  —  thou  eremite 
Vulcan  !  A  Roman,  thou  two-fold  anchorite,  in  that  thou  art 
both  solitary  and  a  forger  of  anchors!" 

"And  good  anchors  too;  aye,  and  picks  and  spades;  no  bet 
ter  in  all  New  England,  Master  Morton,"  cried  the  burly  smith, 
somewhat  nettled  at  this  storm  of  hard  names,  which  his  classi 
cal  companion  was  rattling  like  hail  upon  his  head. 

"  Shall  I  slit  his  weasand,  your  worship,"  said  the  contem 
plative  Bootefish,  towards  whom  the  two  had  now  approached, 
and  who  still  remained  in  his  reposing  attitude  by  the  side  of 
his  prisoner.  "It  would  make  him  comfortable,  I  think.  He 
seems  impatient  to  have  it  done.  His  eye  says,  as  plain  as  mor 
tal  tongue  could  speak,  '  Robert  Bootefish,  no  more  words,  but 
slit  my  wizen  and  have  done  with  it.'  " 

"  Slit  his  weasand !  if  you  do  I'll  slit  your  nose,"  cried  Mor 
ton;  "  and  yet  that  pure  and  perfect  carbuncle  should  remain, 
an  indivisible  gem  forever.  But  stay!  The  blessings  of  Flora 
upon  your  head  — the  softest  plume  from  the  wing  of  Zephyrus 
for  your  velvet  cheek." 


8  MERRY-MOUNT. 


These  latter  invocations  were  not  showered  by  the  classical 
Morton,  as  it  might  seem,  upon  the  head  and  velvet  cheek  of  his 
henchman  Bootefish,  but  were  intended  solely  for  the  benefit  of 
the  slender  youth,  who,  finding  the  party  holding,  as  it  were,  a 
court  martial  upon  their  sylvan  prisoner,  had  advanced  towards 
them  to  advocate  his  cause. 

"Good  morrow,  Master  Morton;  and  good  morrow  to  you, 
Master  Wai  ford.  I  have  been  waiting  impatiently  for  you  to 
find  the  way  from  the  beach  to  the  cottage,  but  you  have  ap 
parently  found  matter  more  important." 

'*  Your  knightly  cousin,  Sir  Christopher,  is  he  returned  from 
our  Puritanical  friends  of  the  nether  bay  ?  "  asked  Morton,  as 
he  took  off  his  cap  and  made  a  fantastic,  half  jocular  salute  to 
the  stripling. 

"Sir  Christopher  has  not  yet  found  his  way  back,"  answered 
the  youth,  "  but  I  think  the  first  shot  fired  was  from  his  gun.  I 
think  I  should  know  its  crack  among  a  thousand,  though  I  sup 
pose  you  will  hold  that  a  foolish  fancy.  At  any  rate,  I  claim  the 
game  as  lawful  prize." 

"  'T  is  yours  before  you  ask  it." 

"  Then,  thus  do  I  take  possession  of  my  prize  ;"  and  with  this 
the  youth  bounded  forward  and  snatched  the  knife  from  the 
hands  of  Bootefish.  That  worthy  individual  looked  on  with 
profound  astonishment,  while  the  lad  rapidly  cut  the  cords  which 
bound  the  feet  of  the  prisoner,  and  then  clapped  his  hands,  and 
uttered  a  musical  halloo,  as  the  animal,  freed  from  his  bondage, 
sprang  to  his  feet,  tossed  his  branched  head  high  in  air,  and 
with  a  mighty  bound  disappeared  in  the  thick  recesses  of  the 
forest. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Signor  Jaspar,"  said  Morton ;  "  I  as 
sure  you  that  no  true  lover  of  the  gentle  craft  but  would  have 
done  as  you  have  done.  '  T  is  murder  to  shoot  a  buck  so  out  of 
season." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  9 


"And  I  am  ashamed  that  the  worshipful  Master  Morton; 
Lord  of  Misrule  and  Sachem  of  Merry-Mount,  should  have  been 
obliged  to  receive  a  rebuke  from  one  wholly  a  tyro  in  the  sci 
ence,"  answered  Jaspar  —  "but  stay;  I  hear  a  footstep  in  the 
thicket."  And  with  the  graceful  bound  of  a  panther,  he  flew 
towards  the  wood. 


10  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    LORD    OF    MERRY-MOUNT. 

DURING  Jaspar's  absence,  the  others  seated  themselves  com 
posedly  upon  the  rocks  near  the  shore. 

The  first  comer,  Thomas  Morton,  was  a  man  of  middling 
height,  and  might  have  numbered  some  forty  years.  His 
features  were  regular,  his  hazel  eye  was  large  and  laughing, 
his  complexion  fair  but  sunburned,  his  hair  and  beard  auburn. 
His  mustachios  were  curled  upwards,  and  his  long  love  locks 
were  arranged  with  the  coquetry  of  a  man,  who,  even  in  the 
wilderness,  seemed  to  value  the  graces  of  his  person.  His  well 
knit  figure  was  arrayed  in  a  buff  colored  jerkin,  with  slashed 
sleeves,  buttoned  to  the  throat,  and  surmounted  with  a  linen 
ruff.  Dark  colored  trunk  hose  and  boots  of  tawny  leather 
completed  his  dress.  In  his  girdle  he  wore  a  long  sheathed 
knife,  with  his  other  hunting  accoutrements,  and  in  the  hollow 
of  his  arm  the  fowling  piece  which  had  been  so  merciful  to  the 
departed  moose.  His  companion,  Thomas  Walford,  was  a  big, 
burly  fellow,  somewhat  younger  than  himself,  considerably 
more  than  six  feet  in  height,  with  a  swart  complexion  and  harsh 
features,  which  were  redeemed  by  a  frank  and  manly  expres 
sion.  He  was  carelessly  dressed  in  a  hunting  shirt  and  leggings 
of  deerskin,  and  in  his  whole  appearance  presented  a  marked 
contrast  to  his  friend. 

Thomas  Morton,  who  was  a  prominent  actor  in  the  veritable 
history  which  I  have  to  relate,  was  a  gentleman  by  birth  and 
education.  His  father,  an  officer  in  the  English  army,  had 
served  with  some  distinction  in  the  auxiliary  legions  under  the 
banner  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  and  losing  his  life  on  the  plains 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


of  Normandy,  had  bequeathed  a  small  patrimony  to  his  son. 
The  youth  had,  after  a  careful  and  classical  preliminary  educa 
tion,  entered  himself  at  Clifford's  Inn,  and  after  completing  his 
studies  had  been  called  to  the  bar.  Here  he  might  have  pros 
pered,  and  for  aught  we  know  have  risen  to  be  Lord  Keeper, 
if,  as  he  facetiously  expressed  it,  he  had  been  blessed  with  the 
faculty  of  keeping  any  thing  —  or  rather,  he  would  add,  if  he 
had  not  been  addicted  to  keeping  too  much.  He  kept  horses, 
hounds,  and  hawks,  every  thing  in  short,  but  his  terms  and 
his  money.  His  career  was  brilliant  but  brief.  His  patri 
mony  was  soon  exhausted.  His  creditors  became  impatient. 
Endowed  with  a  teeming  imagination,  a  sanguine  temperament, 
and  a  vigorous  constitution,  he  was  suddenly  inflamed  with  the 
desire  of  making  a  bold  dash  at  fortune  in  the  El  Dorado  of 
the  west.  The  adventures  of  Raleigh,  the  romantic  achieve 
ments  of  that  poetical  captain  with  the  prosaic  name  of  John 
Smith,  all  the  accounts  brought  by  hundreds  of  nameless 
voyagers  to  the  new  world,  captivated  his  fancy.  To  a  man 
beset  by  Jews  at  home,  the  Gentiles  of  the  wilderness  had  no 
terrors.  He  had  but  few  guineas  left  to  sow,  and  he  found 
England  growing  barren  and  fallow.  He  determined  to  trans 
plant  himself  for  a  season  into  a  new  atmosphere  and  a  new  soil. 
Bright  visions  fluttered  like  golden  singing  birds  around  his 
midnight  pillow.  It  was  the  fever  of  the  age.  It  is  difficult  to 
realize  the  infatuation  of  certain  classes  of  men  at  that  day. 
The  chimeras  which  were  rampant  in  that  century  have  been 
destroyed.  Each  age,  like  Saturn,  devours  its  own  children. 
The  feudal  sovereignties,  palatinates,  bishoprics,  manorial  lord 
ships,  with  all  the  tinsel  and  glittering  circumstance  which  are 
getting  to  be  but  threadbare  patchwork  even  in  olden  countries, 
have  left  hardly  a  rag  upon  a  bush  in  the  western  wilderness. 
When  Beauchamp  Plantagenet,*  of  Belvil,  in  New  Albion  or 


*  See  Note  I. 


12  MERRY-MOUNT. 


New  England,  Esquire,  published  his  letters  "  to  his  suzerain 
lord,  the  right  honorable  and  mighty  Lord  Edmond,  by  Divine 
Providence  lord  proprietor,  earl  palatine,  governor  and  captain- 
general  of  the  Province  of  New  Albion,"  and  gave  the  most 
minute  directions  towards  planting  and  establishing  a  magnifi- 
cient  piece  of  secondhand  feudality  in  the  wilderness,  he  did  not 
seem  a  whit  ridiculous.  Neither  Beauchamp  Plantagenet  nor 
Thomas  Morton  were  ridiculous,  because  they  misapprehended 
the  character  of  the  movement  which  was  setting  towards 
America.  They  were  wrong,  and  Thomas  Morton  suffered  for 
his  misapprehension  of  time,  place,  and  circumstance,  but 
these  dreams  spun  their  cobweb  meshes  around  many  vivid 
brains.  Morton  grew  tired  of  Clifford's  Inn,  the  charms  of  the 
Lord  Keepership  were  dwarfed  in  long  perspective.  His  debts 
harassed  him.  His  mistresses  and  his  friends  went  off  with 
each  other,  leaving  him  to  muse  upon  the  instability  of  love  and 
friendship.  An  unlucky  duel,  in  which  he  was  so  unfortunate 
as  desperately  to  wound  an  antagonist,  whose  friends  were  more 
powerful  than  his  sword,  came  to  add  to  his  difficulties.  He 
saw  himself  plunging  from  one  scrape  to  another,  with  no  hope 
of  extrication.  And  so,  rapidly  converting  all  that  was  left  of 
his  patrimony  into  money,  he  suddenly  embarked  for  America, 
some  half  dozen  years  before  the  period  at  which  we  have 
presented  him  to  the  reader. 

He  had  at  first  found  himself  in  Virginia ;  thence  he  had 
wandered  in  a  northerly  direction — had  visited  and  quarrelled 
with  the  colonists  of  New  Plymouth  —  had  been  with  Mr.  Wes- 
ton's  colony  at  Wessaguscus  —  with  Captain  Gorges —  and  after 
wards  with  Captain  Wollaston,  at  Mount  Wollaston.  Wollaston, 
who  was  a  man  of  station,  had  engaged  with  him,  in  his  under 
taking,  a  few  adventurers  of  his  own  rank,  among  whom  was 
Morton,  and  had  brought  with  him  a  large  number  of  persons 
bound  to  servitude,  after  the  manner  of  the  day,  besides  artifi- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  13 


cers,  mechanics  and  agriculturists,  sufficient  in  his  estimation  to 
establish  a  colony  upon  a  large  scale.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
religion  had  no  part  in  this  movement ;  and  it  is  a  striking  fact, 
that  of  the  many  colonies  attempted  in  Massachusetts,  none 
succeeded  except  those  which  were  planned  and  supported  by 
religious  enthusiasm.  Mr.  Westori's  colony  had  dissolved  within 
a  year  from  its  origination. 

Captain  Wollaston,  who  had  planted  himself  very  near  his 
predecessors,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  hill  which  still  perpet 
uates  his  name,  and  who  had  been  joined  by  the  stragglers  still 
remaining  from  previous  settlements  in  the  vicinity,  found  him 
self  at  the  head  of  a  disorderly  and  somewhat  unmanageable 
crew,  and  becoming  discouraged,  soon  retired  to  Virginia, 
taking  with  him  a  portion  of  his  servants.  The  others  re 
mained  under  the  nominal  jurisdiction  of  one  Filcher,  whom 
he  had  appointed  as  his  lieutenant,  for  the  express  purpose  of 
conducting  them  to  Virginia.  It  was  now  that  Morton  dis 
played  his  genius.  Possessing  a  certain  share  in  the  adventure, 
he  determined  to  make  himself  master  of  the  whole  colony. 
Inflaming  the  colonists  with  artful  speeches,  in  which  he  warned 
them  that  they  were  about  to  be  transported  to  Virginia,  to  be 
sold  as  slaves,  and  held  out  to  them  alluring  prospects  of  wealth 
and  good  living  if  they  rallied  under  his  dominion,  and  re 
mained  where  they  were,  he  easily  made  them  the  instruments 
of  his  plan.  Morton  was  eloquent,  adroit,  bold,, good-humored, 
and  luxurious  and  loose  in  his  habits  and  principles.  The  mot 
ley  troop  of  adventurers  desired  nothing  better  than  to  serve 
such  a  commander.  They  therefore  exchanged  their  servitude 
to  Captain  Wollaston  for  a  nondescript  vassalage  to  Esquire 
Morton.  lie  ruled  them  absolutely,  for  they  were  accustomed 
to  be  governed,  and  he  possessed  a  superiority  of  intellect,  edu 
cation  and  character,  which  soon  gave  him  unbounded  dominion 
over  them.  His  establishment  at 'Mount  Wollaston,  the  name 

VOL.   I.  2 


14  MERRY-MOUNT. 


of  which,  upon  his  elevation  to  the  sovereignty,  he  had  changed 
to  Merry-Mount,  became  a  central  point  of  attraction  for  all  the 
straggling  survivors  of  the  different  trading  plantations  which 
had  been  begun  and  abandoned  during  the  previous  few  years. 
But  while  he  seemed  only  bent  upon  the  accumulation  of  wealth, 
by  means  principally  of  the  beaver  trade  and  of  the  fisheries, 
which  he  proposed  to  establish ;  and  while  his  days  were  passed 
at  Merry-Mount  in  a  round  of  hunting  and  carousing;  he  in 
fact,  in  company  with  some  other  kindred  spirits,  was  nourish 
ing  still  bolder  and  more  subtle  schemes. 

Among  the  original  and  most  ardent  encouragers  of  planta 
tions  in  America,  was  a  certain  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges,  at  that 
time  Governor  of  Plymouth  in  old  England.  He  was  a  knight 
of  ancient  family  and  large  possessions,  a  devoted  royalist,  a 
bigot  for  church  and  state,  and  an  ardent  believer  in  the  possi 
bility  of  establishing  vast  and  flourishing  manorial  and  proprie 
tary  colonies  in  America,  and  particularly  in  New  England.  He 
had  already  expended  large  sums  in  attempts  at  colonization, 
the  only  fruit  of  which,  then  apparent,  was  an  infant  colony  at 
Piscataqua,  which  he  had  founded  in  company  with  a  Captain 
John  Mason,  and  whither  David  Thompson,  a  Scottish  gentle 
man  of  education,  had  been  sent  as  governor,  some  years  pre 
viously  to  the  period  in  which  our  story  opens.  Thompson, 
however,  not  fascinated  by  the  savage  charms  of  Sagadehock, 
had  soon  retire^  from  his  satrapcy  and  established  himself  upon 
the  island  which  still  bears  his  name.  Not  only  Morton,  Gardi 
ner,  Thompson,  of  Thompson's  Island,  and  Walford,  but  still 
other  inhabitants  of  Massachusetts,  of  widely  differing  characters 
and  pursuits,  seemed  united  in  some  common  purpose,  and  bound 
by  a  secret  tie  to  Sir  Ferdinando. 

To  the  Plymouth  brethren,  Morton  was  a  thorn  which  they 
endeavored  incessantly  to  pluck  out  and  cast  from  them.  His 
whole  existence  seemed  to  them  an  insult,  so  utterly  were  his 


MERRY-MOUNT.  15 


character  and  principles  opposed  to  their  own,  while  at  the 
same  time  their  uneasiness  seemed  to  have  a  deeper  cause. 
His  manner  of  dealing  with  the  Indians,  also,  gave  the  Puritans 
great  annoyance.  Fully  impressed  with  that  grand  character 
istic  of  most  Englishmen,  a  self-relying  consciousness  of  national 
superiority,  he  treated  the  aborigines  with  a  frank  and  cheerful 
contempt,  which  was  not  without  its  philosophy.  Where  two 
nations  are  mixed  together,  he  would  say,  one  or  the  other 
must  rule.  He  therefore  assumed,  at  starting,  a  careless,  grace 
ful  superiority,  which  rather  astonished  the  natives,  but  in 
the  end  convinced  them  that  he  was  a  great  sachem,  whom  they 
ought  willingly  to  obey.  He  was  never  deluded  into  any  en 
thusiasm  for  savage  dignity  or  poetry,  but  found  the  Rising  Moon, 
the  Floating  Cloud  of  the  North-west,  and  the  indomitable  Buf 
falo,  all  very  useful  fellows  to  supply  him  with  beaver  and  deer 
skins,  and  rewarded  them  according  to  their  activity  in  his  ser 
vice,  without  any  regard  to  the  splendor  of  their  lineage,  or  their 
private  exploits  of  heroism. 

The  Indians,  in  the  vicinity  of  Morton's  residence,  were 
peaceable  in  the  main,  well  disposed  towards  the  English,  and 
more  afraid  of  the  encroachments  of  the  Tarentines  of  the 
East,  and  the  Pequods  of  the  West,  than  of  the  pale-faced 
strangers,  to  whom  they  looked  up  for  protection  as  to  superior 
beings.  Morton  took  the  best  advantage  of  this  disposition.  He 
taught  a  few  of  them  the  use  of  fire-arms.  But  a  still  more  po 
tent  agent  in  his  scheme  of  dominion,  he  found  in  that  gigantic 
engine  of  mischief  which  was  so  destructive  to  these  children 
of  the  forest.  That  wizard  power,  like  the  genie  of  the  Ara 
bian  fisherman,  was  imprisoned  in  a  bottle.  By  these  means 
Morton  had  extended  his  system  of  semi-vassalage  from  his 
white  subordinates  over  the  Indians  also.  His  horizon  opened 
as  he  advanced.  He  was  already  grown  to  be  a  man  of  power 
and  consequence.  The  Indians  brought  him  in  great  store  of 


16  MERRY-MOUNT. 


beaver,  and  he  began  to  think  himself  likely  to  realize  a  colos 
sal  fortune  at  last  in  this  most  lucrative  trade.  His  more  exten 
sive  plans  of  dominion  were  associated  with  those  of  the  Knight 
of  Devonshire. 

The  other  personage,  Thomas  Walford,  was  a  bold  black 
smith,  who  like  Morton  had  originally  emigrated  to  Virginia, 
but,  becoming  dissatisfied,  had  dwelt  awhile  with  Weston's 
people.  Being  however  a  man  of  rather  solitary  disposition,  he 
had  struck  out  a  pathway  through  the  wilderness,  and  at  the 
period  when  the  reader  makes  his  acquaintance  he  had  seated 
himself  at  Mishawum.  Upon  the  narrow  peninsula  between 
Mystic  and  Charles  rivers,  and  directly  opposite  to  the  triple- 
headed  promontory  of  Shawmut,  the  burly  blacksmith  built  him 
self  a  thatched  house,  which  he  surrounded  with  a  palisade  to 
keep  out  the  wolves  and  Indians.  There  he  lived  with  his  old 
woman,  as  he  affectionately  termed  the  bride  who  had  followed 
his  fortunes  from  the  mother  country,  snapping  his  fingers  at  the 
Puritans,  whom,  like  an  orthodox  Episcopalian  as  he  was,  he 
looked  upon  with  aversion  ;  and  occasionally  visiting  his  allies, 
the  lord  of  Merry-Mount,  the  sachem  of  Squantum,  and  the 
man  of  mystery,  at  whose  residence  we  found  him  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  chapter,  the  impenetrable  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner. 

His  land  at  Mishawum  was  held  by  a  grant  from  the  Gorges 
family.  He  was,  like  Morton,  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the 
brethren  at  Plymouth,  and  was  moreover  a  stumbling-block  in 
the  path  of  those  who  were  contemplating  the  establishment  of 
a  new  and  large  colony  in  Massachusetts  Bay.  The  grant  of  the 
New  England  council  to  Gorges  of  thirty  miles  of  land  in  length, 
and  ten  in  breadth,  on  the  north-eastern  side  of  Massachusetts 
Bay,  although  loosely  worded,  was  an  awkward  and  stubborn 
fact  not  to  be  circumvented,  and,  like  his  own  sledge-hammer, 
not  likely  to  lose  any  of  its  weight  in  the  hands  of  Watford. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  17 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  KNIGHT  OF  THE  SEPULCHRE. 

WALFORD  and  Morton  had  remained  composedly  upon  the 
beach  for  a  few  moments,  when  Jaspar  reappeared,  leaning  affec 
tionately  upon  the  arm  of  an  individual  of  striking  appearance. 

He  was  tall  and  thin,  and  wore  a  steeple-crowned  hat,  a  short 
black  cloak,  with  a  white  band  about  his  throat,  and  other 
habiliments,  of  the  sad  color  most  cherished  by  the  Puritans. 
He  threw  off  his  hat,  however,  as  he  approached,  looking  at  it 
as  he  did  so,  with  an  expression  of  any  thing  but  respect,  and 
displaying,  upon  being  uncovered,  a  head  of  remarkable  beauty. 
His  physiognomy  was  one  of  that  rare  character  with  which 
time  seems  powerless.  It  was  impossible  from  his  face,  any 
more  than  from  his  spare  but  sinewy  figure,  and  the  Arab 
litheness  of  his  movements,  to  guess  at  the  number  of  years 
which  had  flown  over  him,  without  leaving  a  trace  of  their 
passage.  Thick,  Antinous-like  curls  hung  in  raven  masses 
about  a  dark  and  thoughtful  brow,  —  an  eye,  dark  and  com 
manding,  but  whose  mysterious  and  changeful  expression  inevi 
tably  inspired  the  beholder  with  a  sentiment  both  of  interest 
and  distrust,  a  complexion  by  nature  or  by  exposure  more 
swarthy  than  belongs  to  his  race,  severely  chiselled  features, 
and  teeth  glittering  like  a  hound's  through  his  coal  black  beard, 
were  the  characteristics  of  his  countenance.  It  was  certain  that 
he  had  "past  through  the  ambush  of  young  days,"  but  how  far 
it  was  impossible  to  judge.  Such  was  the  individual  whom  men 
called  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner. 
2* 


18  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  boy  was  hanging  upon  his  arm  and  looking  fondly  up 
into  his  face,  and  he  was  followed  closely  by  an  enormous 
staghound,  evidently  wearied  with  a  long  tramp  through  the 
forest,  but  whose  graceful  and  dignified  activity  seemed  like  his 
master's  to  triumph  over  fatigue. 

"Good  morrow,  Master  Merry-Mount,"  said  he,  extending  his 
hand  to  Morton ;  "  and  good  morning  to  you,  worthy  hermit  of 
Mishawum,  I  am  sorry  that  my  absence  should  have  lost  me 
any  portion  of  your  visit  to  my  humble  abode.  And  how  are 
the  revellers  of  Passanogessit,  Master  Morton?  Have  a  care,  the 
shaven  heads  of  Plymouth  are  keeping  a  sharp  watch  upon  you. 
'T  is  a  pity  you  could  riot  borrow  a  little  of  the  caution  of  our 
phlegmatic  friend  here,  worthy  Tom  Walford." 

"  To  say  the  truth,  Sir  Christopher,"  answered  Morton,  "  I 
have  long  since  exhausted  my  talent  at  borrowing,  and  I  doubt 
if  I  could  thrive  much  even  upon  any  advance  from  our  friend 
St.  Thomas  the  silentiary.  His  silence  and  his  sledge-hammer 
are  both  very  useful  tools  to  himself,  whose  only  companions  are 
his  wife  and  the  wolves,  not  to  speak  irreverently  of  the  virtuous 
Good  wife  Walford  ;  but  we  must  all  work  with  the  implements  of 
our  trade,  you  know,  and  I  must  keep  my  tongue  whetted,  or 
my  brains  will  rust  with  it." 

"  I  repeat  my  warning,"  answered  Gardiner,  "  that  all  our 
pains  will  be  fruitless,  if  you  are  not  disposed  to  govern  yourself 
and  your  confederates  a  little  more  rigidly.  I  tell  you,  man, 
that  there  is  great  uneasiness  at  Plymouth." 

"  But  they  certainly  are  not  aware  that  your  humble  servant, 
and  their  particular  nightmare,  Thomas  Morton,  the  '  pettifogger 
of  Clifford's  Inn,'  (as  they  call  the  most  rising  young  barrister 
who  ever  turned  his  back  upon  the  woolsack,)  has  the  honor  of 
your  acquaintance." 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  Gardiner,  "  you  may  be  sure  that 
the  mention  of  your  name  always  inspires  me  with  holy  horror. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  19 


They   have  no  suspicion   that  the   pious  Gardiner,  who  seeks 
comfort  in  the  refreshing  bosom  of  their  austere  church  — 

"  Cold  comfort  indeed/'  cried  Morton,  interrupting  him  with 
an  affected  shudder. 

"  That  such  a  man  as  they  know  me  to  be,  stooping  under 
the  burthen  of  his  sins,  and  anxious  only  to  seat  himself  by  the 
outer  door-post  of  the  Temple  of  the  Elect,  can  have  sympathy 
or  even  acquaintance  with  the  Godless  Lord  of  Misrule,  the 
disturber  of  the  peace  of  Canaan,  the  din  of  whose  revelry 
sounds  so  hideously  upon  the  ears  of  the  saints." 

"  As  if  this  wide  and  boundless  new  wrorld  was  discovered," 
cried  Morton,  "  only  that  its  forests  might  resound  with  their 
eternal  trumpets  and  their  shawms.  But  let  them  come  to 
Merry-Mount  themselves,  they  shall  have  better  fare  than 
parched  corn  and  ditch  water.  Let  them  wet  their  beards  and 
vinegar  faces  in  our  sparkling  claret  jugs,  let  them  listen  to  a 
catch  led  off  by  the  mellifluous  tongue  of  Robert  Bootefish 
yonder,  let  them  look  upon  a  wild  dance  of  beaver  coated 
nymphs  ." 

"  Perhaps  they  will  make  you  a  visit  sooner  than  you  think," 
interrupted  Gardiner,  as  Morton,  after  having  relieved  his  mind 
by  this  ebullition  of  spleen,  lay  kicking  up  his  heels  upon  the 
grass  —  now  humming  a  snatch  of  a  drinking  song,  now  mutter 
ing  to  himself  a  quotation  from  his  favorite  Horace  —  "  perhaps 
your  hospitality  may  be  put  sooner  to  the  test  than  you  suppose  ; 
I  see  you  prick  up  your  ears  ;  take  care  that  you  keep  them 
where  they  belong.  The  psalm  singers  have  got  a  pillory,  you 
know,  and  they  are  mightily  expert  at  slicing  off  all  superfluous 
appendages." 

"  Thank  ye,  Sir  Kit,"  replied  Morton.  "  But  if  my  tongue 
endangers  my  ears,  I  have  a  hand,  thank  fortune,  that  shall 
protect  them  all.  I  know  their  fingers  itch  for  my  ears  —  nay, 
have  they  not  already  ornamented  their  accursed  whipping-post 


20  MERRY-MOUNT. 


one  of  the  capital  excrescences  of  my  loyal  subject, 
Humprey  Rednape  ?  Does  he  not  suffer  obloquy  enough  at  the 
hands  of  his  confederates  Bootefish  and  Cakebread,  and  all  the 
other  unfeeling  varlets?  Does  not  that  content  them,  but  would 
they  extend  their  sacrilegious  shears  even  to  the  august  car 
tilage  of  the  suzerain  of  Merry-Mount  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you,  Morton,  that  they  are  no  respecter  of  persons. 
They  consider  you  a  nuisance,  and  they  long  to  have  you  in 
their  power.  Your  ears  are  not  worth  a  wolf's  bounty,  if  they 
once  get  you  into  their  clutches." 

"The  sacrilegious  iconoclasts!"  cried  the  imperturbable 
Morton.  "  Verily  they  carry  their  hatred  of  ornaments  too  far. 
Are  not  these  distracted  Puritans  satisfied  with  having  abolished"^ 
copes  and  tippets  and  corner  caps,  that  they  rage  so  carnally 
even  against  such  trifling  ornaments  as  your  humble  servant's 
ears?  Truly  their  love  of  simplicity  is  unbecoming.  Their 
hatred  of  ceremony  carries  them  too  far." 

"  You  will  find  they  will  use  little  ceremony  if  they  once 
proceed  to  extremities  with  you." 

"But  I  tell  thee,  Sir  Kit,  they  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with 
my  extremities.  I  will  neither  lend  mine  ears  to  their  counsels, 
nor  make  a  present  of  them  to  their  pillories.  Hang  them,  let 
them  trim  their  own  heads,  the  crop-eared  Israelites !  Let 
them  purify  Canaan,  —  but,  by  Phitus  and  Rhadamanthus,  let 
them  beware  of  entering  the  precincts  of  Merry-Mount !  My 
Cerberus  never  sleeps  on  his  post,  and  a  single  growl  of  his 
would  frighten  them  back  to  their  dingy  kennels,  aye,  even  if 
they  were  led  on  by  the  valorous  Captain  Shrimp  himself." 

"If  you  speak  of  Captain  Standish,"  interposed  the  phleg 
matic  Walford,  who  had  hitherto  taken  but  little  part  in  the 
conversation,  "  if  you  speak  of  Captain  Standish,  mayhap  you 
may  find  him  no  baby,  small  as  he  is.  He  carries  a  two-fisted 
rapier,  would  split  your  skull  as  easy  as  I  could  crack  a  cocoa- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  21 


nut  with  my  sledge-hammer,  and  he  wears  an  iron  pot  on  hi, 
head  —  I  know  it,  for  I  have  had  the  tinkering  of  the  same  — 
would  take  a  swinging  thump  as  easy  as  my  anvil,  and  never 
the  worse." 

"Vulcan,  Vulcan,"  replied  the  unabashed  Morton,  "your 
remarks  are  unsavory  —  they  smell  of  the  shop  —  what  is  all 
this  about  anvils  and  sledge-hammers  ?  Let  little  Captain 
Shrimp  not  venture  to  Merry-Mount.  He  shall  find  no  Witte- 
wamotts  nor  Pecksuots,  I  promise  you  —  he  shall  be  boiled  in 
his  own  iron  pot,  boiled,  aye,  and  eaten  too  as  sauce  to  my 
salmon,  the  pungent  little  shrimp." 

"  Mayhap  you  may  find  him  a  bit  too  peppery  for  your  taste," 
answered  the  honest  blacksmith. 

"  And  I  have  a  mind,"  interposed  Sir  Christopher,  "  that 
better  things  may  be  done  with  Captain  Standish,  or  Captain 
Shrimp,  as  you  call  him,  than  eating  him.  I  have  had  no 
interview  with  him  yet,  but  such  an  ally  as  he  would  be  invalua 
ble —  at  all  events,  I  agree  in  the  warning  of  our  honest 
Walford  here.  Be  cautious,  keep  quiet  for  the  present,  don't 
stir  up  these  grim  fellows  before  the  time." 

"  Trust  me  for  defending  my  strong  hold,"  answered  Morton, 
more  seriously.  "  Trust  me  for  keeping,  for  the  present,  out 
of  the  clutches  even  of  the  puissant  Shrimp." 

"  Marry  do  so,"  said  the  blunt  blacksmith  ;  "  you'll  find  the 
hug  of  a  bear  as  soft  as  a  young  maid's  arms  in  comparison. 
But  Sir  Christopher  has  not  yet  informed  us  when  he  left  Ply 
mouth,  nor  how  he  travelled  thence." 

"  I  preferred,  as  you  know,  to  travel  by  land  and  on  foot," 
said  Sir  Christopher. 

"  The  post-roads  being  much  out  of  repair,"  interrupted  the 
facetious  Morton. 

"  I  have  been  sojourning  a  week  among  the  saints,"  con 
tinued  Gardiner,  "  leaving  Jaspar  and  the  faithful  Sketwarroes 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


to  keep  house  in  my  absence.  I  am  still  an  humble  candidate 
for  admission  to  their  sanctuary,  but  I  have  ventured  to  broach 
but  little  of  our  scheme  of  transplanting  their  colony  to  Shaw- 
mut.  Besides,  I  am  still  waiting  for  dispatches  from  Sir 
Ferdinando  in  reply  to  my  last  letters." 

"As  for  the  Indians,"  continued  Gardiner,  musingly,  "  they 
are  the  best  friends  we  have  —  I  mean  in  any  considerable  num 
bers  of  course  —  and  very  useful  instruments  I  intend  to  make 
them.  I  have  as  much  reliance  on  a  savage's  sagacity  and  friend 
ship  as  on  a  white  man's.  They  are  easily  led,  if  you  make 
them  look  up  to  you  as  a  protector  and  a  God." 

"And  I  will  say,"  said  Morton,  "  of  my  own  knowledge,  that 
they  are  better  fellows,  and  will  make  better  Christians,  than  the 
Puritans.  Have  I  not  converted  more  of  the  heathen,  every 
year,  by  reading  the  liturgy  to  them,  than  the  saints  will  convert 
in  a  century  ? " 

"  Say,  rather,  perverted,"  said  Gardiner. 
"  I  say,"  continued  Morton,  warmly,  "  that  my  savage  sub 
jects  are  rapidly  becoming  as  civilized  and  as  respectable  a  body 
of  rascals  as  my  Christian  ones." 

"And  no  such  difficult  matter  either,"  said  the  blunt  black 
smith,  "  if  a  body  may  judge  from  that  lobster  Bootefish,  yon 
der." 

"  Bootefish  —  Bootefish !  "  cried  Morton,  in  so  loud  a  tone  as 
to  arouse  that  worthy  individual  from  the  innocent  slumber 
which  he  had  been  enjoying  in  the  sunshine  during  this  pro 
tracted  conversation.  "  I  say,  Robin,"  he  continued,  with  af 
fected  indignation,  as  the  red  faced  and  red  coated  worthy  ad 
vanced,  stretching  his  long  arms  and  his  bandy  legs  to  shake  off 
his  lethargy  ;  "  this  mechanical  son  of  Jupiter  has  the  audacity 
to  call  you  a  lobster,  and  moreover  denies  that  you  are  a  Chris 
tian  ;  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"Son  of  Jupiter,   your  worship  — Christian,  your  worship  !  " 


MERRY-MOUNT.  23 


exclaimed  Bootefish,  his  brain  evidently  laboring  to  take  in  at  one 
effort  the  incongruous  images  suddenly  presented  to  him,  and  his 
small  elephant  eyes  drowsily  rolling  from  one  of  his  companions 
to  the  other  ;  '[  I  hope  I  despise  Christians  —  I  mean  Puritans  — 
as  a  Christian  Episcopalian  should.  Down  with_the  Puritans! 
down  with  the  lobsters!  at  any  rate,  your  worship,"  grumbled 
the  veteran,  now  thoroughly  awake.  "  Tell  Master  Walford  that 
if  I  am  a  lobster  he  had  better  keep  out  of  my  claws." 

"  Bravo,  Bootefish  !  "  cried  Morton.  "  Let  me  echo  his  warn 
ing,  Master  Vulcan,  in  fair  payment  for  the  one  you  gave  me 
just  now.  A  lobster  is  as  dangerous  as  a  shrimp,  you  may  find  ; 
aye,  and  wears  as  good  a  coat  of  mail  to  his  back." 

And  so  the  sovereign  of  Merry-Mount,  who  was  never  so 
happy  as  when  he  could  quibble  upon  the  redoubtable  Miles 
Standish,  the  hero  of  Plymouth,  to  whom  he  had  an  invincible 
dislike,  rubbed  his  hands  triumphantly,  as  he  looked  at  the 
blacksmith. 

That  gigantic  individual  looked  down  with  the  most  benig 
nant  expression  at  the  ludicrous  indignation  of  Bootefish,  with 
out  troubling  himself  much  about  the  claws  to  which  he  alluded 
in  so  threatening  a  manner. 

"  This  is  one  of  your  instruments  for  turning  savages  into 
Christians,  then,  I  suppose,"  said  he  to  Morton. 

"  Christians,  I  defy  you  !  "  said  the  indignant  Robert ;  "  I  am 
head  clerk  and  precentor  at  Merry-Mount,  Master  Walford,  I 
would  have  you  to  know.  Head  clerk  and  chief  butler  too,  and 
not  a  man  to  be  looked  down  upon  by  a  blacksmith.  Who  sets 
all  the  psalms  at  Merry-Mount,  I  should  like  to  know,  but 
Robert  Bootefish  ?  Who  makes  the  responses,  I  humbly  ask, 
but  Bootefish  again  ?  Who  taps  all  the  ale  casks  but  Boote 
fish  1"  And  Robert  Bootefish,  concluding  his  observations, 
smote  his  breast,  and  looked  daggers  at  the  undisturbed  black 
smith. 


24  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Well,  well,  lobster  !  "  said  he,  not  heeding  the  frown  which 
gathered  like  a  cloud  around  the  shaggy  brows  of  the  clerk  of 
Merry-Mount  at  the  repetition  of  the  offensive  epithet.  "  Well, 
well,"  said  he,  innocently  continuing  his  bantering,  "I  dare  to 
say,  you  will  redden  even  the  noses  of  the  red  men  with  your 
liquor.  As  for  your  psalms  and  responses,  I  haven't  much  more 
faith  in  such  forms  than  the  Puritans  themselves,  if  your  church 
and  cellar  be  all  one,  as  it  seems.  Tell  the  poor  devils  of  sav 
ages  to  follow  your  nose  to  heaven.  JT  is  a  burning  and  shining 
light,  a  beacon  that  is  never  quenched  ! " 

Bootefish's  wrath  was  thoroughly  aroused.  His  nose,  which 
might  be  said  to  be  his  only  feature,  flashed  with  indignation. 
Plucking  his  knife  from  his  sheath,  he  rushed,  as  furiously  as  his 
duck  legs  would  carry  him,  towards  his  provoking  antagonist. 

The  phlegmatic  blacksmith,  even  at  that  moment  hardly 
aware  that  his  victim  was  really  out  of  temper,  looked  for  a  few 
seconds  in  utter  astonishment  at  his  ferocious  onset,  jumped 
back  with  agility,  in  time  to  escape  with  only  a  wound  on  his 
gigantic  thumb,  from  a  furious  blow  aimed  at  him  with  the 
hunting  knife  ;  and  then,  rushing  forward  with  the  ponderous 
velocity  of  a  bull,  seized  his  squat  assailant  in  his  iron  grasp, 
lifted  him  bodily  from  the  ground,  pitched  him  heels  over  head 
some  half  a  dozen  yards  through  the  air,  and  then,  recovering 
his  composure,  looked  tranquilly  on,  as  the  unfortunate  head 
butler,  after  describing  his  parabola  through  the  air,  alighted  in 
a  most  undignified  posture,  directly  between  his  two  Indian  pro 
selytes. 

These  individuals,  whom  the  facetious  Morton  called  his  serfs, 
it  will  be  remembered  were  the  oarsmen  of  his  boat,  and  had 
been  gravely  squatting  upon  their  hams  and  smoking  their  pipes 
on  the  same  spot,  and  in  the  same  attitude,  ever  since  their 
arrival.  Upon  the  sudden  descent  of  the  luckless  Bootefish  be 
tween  them,  one  of  them  assisted  him  to  his  feet,  while  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  35 


other,  with  unperturbed  visage,  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth 
and  ejaculated,  "Ugh,  is  my  brother  hurt?"  and  without  paus 
ing  for  a  reply,  he  grunted  —  "  The  Thunder-cloud  of  Mishawura 
is  strong  ;  my  brother  is  fat ;  he  cannot  wrestle  with  the  Thunder 
cloud  of  Mishawum." 

"Thunder-cloud  be  damned !"  muttered  the  pious  precentor 
of  Merry-Mount,  who,  finding  himself  unhurt,  although  marvel 
lously  discomfitted,  thought  it  necessary,  on  being  picked  up 
and  set  on  his  legs  again,  to  manifest  a  show  of  hostility, 
although  taking  care  to  keep  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the 
stalwart  smith.  "  The  Thunder-cloud  of  Mishawum  may  thank 
his  stars  that  my  foot  slipped  upon  the  grass  as  it  did,  else  I 
would  have  stuck  him  like  a  pig." 

Morton,  who  had  been  enjoying  the  scene  amazingly,  while 
Gardiner,  hardly  heeding  what  was  going  forward,  had  been  con 
versing  in  an  under  tone  with  Jaspar,  now  stepped  forward  and 
addressed  the  brooding  Bootefish. 

"  Faith,  thy  hand  is  out  at  wrestling,  Robin,"  said  he. 
"  Where  is  thy  boasted  Indian  hug,  of  which  we  hear  so  much 
when  there  are  no  Indians,  nor  bears,  nor  blacksmiths,  to  prac 
tise  it  upon?  Never  did  I  see  a  man  fly  through  the  air  so 
buoyantly.  '  Daedaleo  ocyor  Icaro.'  By  my  soul,  the  blacksmith 
has  given  thee  wings,  man." 

"  Never  you  mind,  never  you  mind,  your  worship,"  muttered 
his  satellite,  in  a  gloomy  and  threatening  manner;  "the  time 
will  come.  Revenge  I  will  have,  as  sure  as  he  lives.  The  man 
who  injures  Bootefish  never  went  unpunished  yet." 

"  Tush,  tush,  man,"  said  the  good-humored  Morton.  "  Never 
make  such  a  pother  about  a  tumble  on  the  green  sward.  Never 
nourish  ill  blood,  man  ;  't  will  only  make  your  nose  redder,  and 
the  blacksmith's  jibes  still  saucier.  Shake  hands,  and  be  friends 
with  him  again." 

"Aye,"   said   the   hearty    blacksmith,    proffering    his    mighty 

VOL.  i.  3 


26  MERRY-MOUNT. 


hand,  "  shake  hands  and  be  friends  again,  Robin  Bootefish. 
Give  us  thy  claw,  hang  me  —  give  us  thy  fist,  man.  A  body 
must  defend  his  bread  basket,  you  know." 

"Does  he  withdraw  the  lobster?"  asked  Bootefish,  in  a 
stately  manner. 

"  He  does,  he  does,  every  claw  of  him,"  answered  Morton. 
"And  if  not,  what  is  a  lobster,  but  a  church  dignitary —  a  red- 
robed  cardinal?  So  make  haste,  for  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  be  off; 
and  a  quarrel  between  two  such  trusty  friends  of  mine  I  could 
never  endure.  So,  I  say,  make  haste  —  kiss,  and  be  friends." 

The  worthy  Bootefish  relented,  seizing  the  proffered  hand  of 
his  late  antagonist  with  such  cordiality,  that  it  might  have  been 
thought  he  intended  to  have  literally  obeyed  the  injunction  of 
his  superior.  The  blacksmith,  however,  apparently  not  desirous 
of  the  actual  osculation  he  contemplated,  kept  him  at  metaphori 
cal  distance,  and  shaking  his  hand  with  an  honest  effusion  of 
friendship,  bade  him  forgive  and  forget,  with  a  good-humored 
expression  of  countenance,  which  was  reflected  back  in  a  sunny 
glow  from  the  face  of  the  chief  butler. 

"  You  propose  visiting  Master  Blaxton,  you  say.  If  you  do 
so,  please  convey  this  packet  to  him,"  said  the  knight,  extending 
a  carefully  sealed  paper  to  the  blacksmith. 

"  Willingly,  Sir  Christopher.  It  is  about  the  turn  of  the  tide 
now,  and  I  may  as  well  take  the  parson  on  my  way  homeward. 
Good  day,  my  masters  all  —  and  good  day,  worthy  Bootefish. 
No  malice  now,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  None,  Goodman  Walford,"  said  the  pacified  lobster,  waving 
both  his  claws  amicably  to  the  departing  smith. 

Walford's  little  boat  was  soon  tossing  upon  the  tide,  and  his 
sail  had  disappeared  behind  the  headlands  of  the  cove,  when 
Gardiner  observed  to  Morton,  — 

"A  sinewy  fellow,  that  Walford,  and  as  tough  and  as  true  as 
his  own  sledge-hammer.  With  a  hundred  or  two  of  such  giants, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  27 


one  might  conquer  a  world.  If  Standish  were  but  upon  our 
side, ." 

"I  tell  you,  you  might  as  well  expect  to  turn  yonder  river 
backwards,  and  make  it  flow  to  its  fountain  again.  There  is  no 
turning  nor  twisting  that  sturdy  little  shrimp.  I  will  say  that  of 
him,  small  as  is  the  love  I  bear  him,"  answered  Morton. 

"  It  has  been  a  fixed  notion  with  Sir  Ferdinando,"  said  Gardi 
ner,  "  that  the  Plymouth  company,  who  have  already  been  much 
indebted  to  his  exertions,  might  be  induced  to  transplant  them 
selves  to  a  position  which  they  acknowledge  to  be  vastly  more 
attractive,  and  to  settle  under  his  jurisdiction.  This  would  be 
an  immense  advantage  at  starting,  and  our  rivals  in  England, 
who  are  bent  upon  outwitting  him,  and  upon  sending  another 
and  a  powerful  colony  to  these  parts,  might  be  foiled.  Let  but 
his  charter  and  his  commission  pass  the  seals,  with  a  flour 
ishing  colony  already  established,  in  a  most  admirable  position, 
as  a  nucleus,  and  with  the  reinforcements  that  Sir  Ferdinando 
and  his  powerful  and  wealthy  kinsmen  (to  say  nothing  of  Mason 
and  Lord  Arundel)  have  promised,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

"  But  Southcote  and  Rosewell,  and  the  Vassalls,  and  Salton- 
stalls,  have  an  amazing  influence;  and  more  potent  than  all,  are 
Mr.  Humphrey  and  Isaac  Johnson,  the  brothers-in-law  of  the 
powerful  Earl  of  Lincoln.  'T  is  said  that  they  actually  contem 
plate  removing  hither  themselves ;  and  that  Lady  Arabella  and 
Lady  Susan  are  fanatical  enough  to  follow  their  husbands  into 
the  wilderness,"  said  Morton. 

"Aye,"  replied  Gardiner,  "  but  Lord  Lincoln's  influence  is 
not  so  certain." 

"At  all  events,"  said  Morton,  "  the  old  Gorges  patent  is  good 
as  far  as  it  goes.  I  have  studied  at  Clifford's  Inn  long  enough 
to  know  that." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  "  and  it  furnishes  moreover,  added 
to  actual  possession,  a  sufficient  ground  for  enlarging  it.  Trust 


28  MERRY-MOUNT. 


me,  we  shall  yet  outwit  the  Puritans,  and  if  they  settle  at  all, 
they  shall  settle  under  us.  Give  me  but  men,  money,  and  a 
little  time,  and  trust  me,  I  will  build  a  colony  such  as  the  world 
has  never  seen.  A  powerful  metropolis  in  the  bottom  of  this 
bay,  and  flourishing  commercial  towns  at  Mishawum  and  Naum- 
keak,  to  say  nothing  of  your  Passanogessit,  extensive  fisheries, 
and  an  exclusive  trade  with  the  Indians,  a  strong  proprietary 
government,  a  new  order  of  nobility,  a  peasantry  with  a  bounti 
ful  soil,  and  a  strong  government  to  protect  them  —  these  seem 
but  dreams,  but  they  are  visions  which  shall  be  history,  before 
many  years  have  rolled  over  our  heads.  The  Lord  Palatine 
of  Massachusetts  will  soon  hold  his  head  high  at  home.  Aye, 
they  shall  find,  perhaps,"  continued  Gardiner,  with  flashing  eyes, 
"  that  the  worm  which  they  thought  to  tread  out  of  existence 
shall  turn  upon  them  yet  —  the  serpent  is  not  crushed  —  and 
they  shall  find  his  fangs  have  grown." 

Morton,  who  was  apparently  accustomed  to  these  occasional 
ebullitions  of  passion  from  Gardiner,  although  he  was  not  perhaps 
thoroughly  aware  of  all  their  causes,  waited  coolly  till  his  com 
panion  was  more  composed,  when  he  observed,  — 

"  Your  future  Majesty  of  Massachusetts  will  not  forget  the 
claims  of  your  faithful  ally  and  prime  minister.  Remember  the 
services  of  a  jurisconsult,  and  more  particularly  of  one  familiar 
with  the  codes  of  the  conquered  nations,  will  be  invaluable  in 
our  nascent  empire." 

"  I  never  forget  friend  or  foe,"  said  Gardiner,  "  and  you  are 
a  tried  and  trusty  friend.  I  would  to  God  you  were  a  little 
more  cautious  one.  By  the  way,"  added  he,  "  is  Harry  Mauds- 
ley  still  dwelling  at  Merry-Mount?  " 

"  He  is,"  said  Morton  ;  "  but  he  is  an  impracticable?  fellow  — 
brave,  but  wayward  —  moody,  sometimes,  and  passionate  —  and 
at  other  times  gay,  and  as  full  of  reckless  fun  as  the  best,  or 
worst  of  us.  I  sometimes  hardly  know  what  to  think  of  the  lad," 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Maudsley  is  dangerous,"  said  Gardiner,  "  and  I  will  tell  you 
moreover,  whatever  he  seems,  that  he  has  a  purpose  here  in  this 
wilderness,  sometimes  he  seems  to  me  inclined  to  fanaticism, 
and  yet  I  hardly  know,  there  is  something  about  him  I  should 
like  to  fathom." 

"  Why,  do  you  know  him  so  well?  "  asked  Morton,  "  I  hardly 
thought  you  were  acquainted  with  the  lad.  Have  you  known 
him  in  England?  " 

"  I  know  what  I  know,"  said  Sir  Christopher  in  a  gloomy 
voice,  with  a  scowl  darkening  his  brow  —  "I  tell  you  he  is 
dangerous  —  ask  me  no  further." 

The  sun  had  by  this  time  past  far  below  the  zenith,  and  thick 
clouds  were  rolling  themselves  in  dark  and  cumulous  masses 
from  the  north.  The  short-lived  glory  of  an  April  day  was 
rapidly  becoming  obscured,  the  sea  was  black  and  troubled,  and 
the  fickle  breath  of  the  sweet  south-west  had  already  sighed  its 
last  among  the  leafless  oaks  around  them. 

"  The  devil  take  these  assassin  spring  days,"  cried  Morton, 
"  smiling  hypocritically  in  your  face,  and  whipping  you  through 
the  lungs  with  an  east  wind,  as  sharp  as  your  rapier.  I  had 
twenty  times  rather  face  an  honest  tempest,  with  its  fog,  rain,  or 
snow.  A  warm  friend  and  a  bitter  enemy  for  me.  There  may 
be  something  congenial  to  a  Puritan's  ideas  in  these  days  of 
sanctimonious  sunshine,  chilled  all  the  while  by  an  east  wind  as 
sour  as  their  tempers,  and  eternal  as  their  sermons,  but  not  to 
mine,  by  Jupiter." 

"  Nor  to  mine,"  said  Gardiner  abstractedly. 

"  But  while  I  am  talking  of  sunshine,"  continued  Morton, 
"  the  sun  is  sinking  into  yonder  mass  of  clouds,  and  the  north 
easter  is  beginning  to  pipe  among  the  pines  —  I  must  be  off. 
So  I  say,  you,  Robin  Bootefish,  get  the  boat  off,  and  look  lively, 
man,  we  have  no  time  to  lose,  if  the  black  snout  of  yonder 
3* 


30  MERRY-MOUNT. 


grim  monster  of  a  cloud,  which  has  already  swallowed  the  sun, 
is  not  to  open  upon  and  devour  us  also.     So  be  alive,  Robert ! 

'  tu,  nisi  ventis 
Debes  ludibrium,  cave,' 

which  being  interpreted,  is,  stir  your  fins,  O  Bootefish,  if  you 
would  escape  a  wet  jacket." 

The  worthy  precentor,  butler,  and  boatswain,  of  the  eccentric 
Morton,  being  thus  exhorted,  got  the  boat  expeditiously  under 
weigh,  with  the  assistance  of  his  two  savage  proselytes,  and  the 
Lord  of  Merry-Mount  jumped  briskly  aboard,  having  shaken 
hands  and  warmly  bade  farewell  to  his  companions. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  31 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    LUDLOWS    AT    NAUMKEAK. 

THE  low,  flat,  narrow  tongue  of  land,  formed  by  two  estuaries 
of  the  Atlantic,  upon  which  stands  at  this  day  the  venerable 
and  wealthy  city  of  Salem,  had  been,  until  about  two  years 
previously  to  the  commencement  of  our  story,  entirely  without 
inhabitants.  The  great  and  singular  mortality,  called  by  some 
contemporary  writers,  the  plague,  which  had  swept  away  the 
Indians  so  fearfully,  at  a  period  just  previous  to  the  arrival  of 
the  pilgrims  at  Plymouth,  as  to  prostrate  their  strength,  and  to 
open  their  territories,  as  it  were,  to  the  footsteps  of  the  white 
men,  had  been  equally  terrible  in  its  devastations  along  the 
whole  coast,  and  far  into  the  interior  of  Massachusetts.  Naum- 
keak,  if  it  had  ever  been  occupied  by  the  Indians,  had,  at  any 
rate,  lost .  its  native  population,  whether  by  death  or  desertion, 
and  was  in  1626  a  silent  and  savage  wilderness,  untenanted  save 
by  the  wolf  and  the  bear. 

Among  those  persons,  numerous  at  that  time  in  England,  of 
good  "  quality,  figure,  and  estate,"  who  were  disheartened  by 
the  movement  towards  papacy  of  the  English  hierarchy  under 
the  new  reign  of  Charles  I.,  was  a  certain  Walter  Ludlow. 
Sprung  of  an  ancient  lineage,  and  inheriting  a  respectable  for 
tune,  he  had  for  the  first  few  years  of  his  manhood  taken  but 
little  interest  in  affairs,  either  of  church  or  state.  In  that  age, 
however,  of  religious  excitement,  apathy  upon  such  matters  was 
rare.  Religion  was  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  times.  The  long 
smothered  fires  lighted  with  torches,  snatched  from  the  funeral 


32  MERRY-MOUNT. 


piles  of  a  thousand  martyrs,  were  at  last  breaking  out  with 
devastating  fury  throughout  the  breadth  of  Europe.  The 
flaming  sword  of  God  seemed,  in  the  eyes  of  bigots  and  enthu 
siasts,  to  wave  the  human  race  on  to  battle,  and  armies  of 
Christians  crusading  against  Christians  filled  the  air  with  their 
hostile  shouts,  and  shook  the  soil  of  Christendom  to  its  centre. 
From  many  a  sacked  and  burning  city,  smoking  like  a  sacrifice 
of  blood  and  fire  to  the  savage  Deity,  whom  they  worshipped  in 
the  name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  arose  the  wail  of  outraged 
women  —  the  shrieks  of  butchered  age  or  helpless  infancy, 
mingled  with  the  roar  of  cannon,  the  yells  of  triumph,  the 
curses  of  the  dying  —  a  confused  and  hideous  din,  by  which  was 
manifested  the  baleful  presence  of  religious  war. 

In  such  an  age,  to  be  indifferent  in  religious  matters  was 
difficult.  It. .was  almost  impossible  to  avoid  being  a  bigot,  or 
enthusiast,  or,  what  was  most  usual,  both.  Walter  Ludlow, 
whose  soul  was  first  awakened  to  deep  religious  contemplation, 
upon  the  death  of  the  wife  of  his  youth,  who  was  taken  from 
him,  after  they  had  laid  their  two  children  in  the  grave,  became 
converted  to  the  principles  of  Puritanism  during  a  brief  and 
accidental  visit  made  by  him  at  Leyden. 

Ludlow  was  naturally  a  man  of  a  melancholy  and  enthusiastic 
character,  to  which  his  domestic  affliction,  and  his  subsequent 
religious  conversion,  had  imparted  a  deeper  and  a  sterner  tinge. 

He  despaired  of  seeing  the  day-star  of  a  brighter  morning 
ever  rise  upon  the  land,  and  his  thoughts  turned  to  the  wilder 
ness. 

With  his  young  and  beautiful  sister,  the  only  person  near  of 
kin  to  him,  who  had  been  his  sole  companion  at  his  desolate 
fire-side,  who  had  been  willing  to  share  his  sorrow,  as  she  had 
shared  his  joy,  and  who  deeply  and  enthusiastically  sympathized 
in  his  despondency  as  to  the  prospects  of  their  religion,  he  had 
at  last  embarked  for  New  England. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  33 


Belonging  to  no  particular  religious  association,  he  had  at 
first  visited  and  sojourned  awhile  at  the  infant  colony  of  Ply 
mouth,  but,  from  a  variety  of  reasons,  not  being  satisfied  with 
his  residence  there,  he  had  removed  not  a  great  while  before  the 
period  of  our  tale  to  the  neighborhood  of  Naumkeak,  to  which 
place  the  scanty  remnant  of  the  Cape  Ann  colony  had  removed. 

It  was  a  few  days  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  last  chapter, 
that  Walter  Ludlow  and  his  sister  Esther  were  wandering  upon 
the  wild  and  wooded  peninsula,  near  which  they  had  established 
their  temporary  home. 

"  This  chill  breath  from  the  sea,  these  gloomy  and  leafless 
forests,  this  silent  solitude  which  enwraps  us  as  with  a  mighty 
funeral  pall,"  said  Ludlow,  "  are  but  a  sad  exchange  for  the  soft 
airs  and  the  opening  blossoms  of  your  old  home,  Esther.  I  fear 
you  will  bitterly  repent,  ere  long,  that  you  followed  the  fortunes 
of  one  whom  God  hath  stricken,  and  sent  into  the  wilderness  to 
die." 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Esther,  "  if  the  returning  spring  could 
but  warm  the  freezing  current  of  your  heart ;  if  but  a  few 
faded  flowers  could  but  revive  again,  which  in  old  and  happy 
times  blossomed  about  your  pathway,  I  should  regret  nothing, 
not  even  the  garden  flowers  of  England.  Say  rather  that  I 
should  regret  only  for  your  sake,  that  we  have  taken  the 
pilgrim's  staff  and  scrip —  for  indeed  you  should  have  a  bolder, 
or  at  least  a  more  elastic  and  hopeful  heart,  to  struggle  among 
the  heathen  in  this  land  of  dark  shadows." 

"Your  existence  was  not  broken  like  mine,"  said  Ludlow, 
"  your  future  was  not  like  mine,  a  pathway  through  eternal  snow. 
Let  the  broken-hearted  and  world-weary  man  wear  the  cowl  of 
his  solitude  —  let  him  wrap  the  desert  about  him  even  as  a 
garment  of  sackcloth.  But  I  had  forgotten,  even  thou  hast 
sorrow  of  thine  own,"  said  Ludlow,  pausing  for  a  moment, 
while  his  sister  answered  him  with  a  suppressed  sigh 


34  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"No,  Walter,"  said  she,  "I  have  no  sorrows,  no  regrets  of 
mine  own.  I  know  to  what  you  allude,  but  I  have  cast  from 
my  heart  an  image  which  strove  to  impress  itself  there  against 
my  will.  A  worldling,  a  scorner  of  our  religion,  shall  never 
hold  the  humblest  place  in  my  heart.  One,  who  had  dared  to 
mock  at  my  faith,  and  even  to  sneer  at  your  melancholy  mad 
ness  and  fanaticism,  as  he  termed  it,  shall  never  cause  me  one 
tear  of  regret  at  leaving  the  land  of  my  fathers." 

"  Alas !  "  said  the  moralizing  Ludlow,  "  the  world,  like  the 
sea,  engulphs  our  treasures.  Beneath  the  tossing  waters  of  the 
world  how  sink  our  proudest  hopes !  There,  sunk  forever,  lie 
our  joys,  our  ambition,  our  love,  all  the  ingots  of  our  heart  cast 
from  us  in  the  storm,  even  as  glittering  robes,  heaps  of  un 
counted  gold  and  priceless  gems  lie  buried  in  the  depths  of 
ocean  !  But  think  you,  Esther,  that  Maudsley  hath  already 
forgotten  and  forsworn  you  ?  I  always  thought  there  was  much 
good  in  him,  and  he  might  have  been  yet  saved  even  as  a  brand 
from  the  burning.  Think  you  never  to  behold  his  face  again  ? " 

"  Never,"  said  Esther,  sternly  conquering  an  emotion  which 
seemed  to  have  more  power  over  her  heart  than  her  spirit. 
"  Never,"  said  she  firmly,  "  for  I  have  set  up  my  staff  forever  in 
this  wilderness,  and  have  bade  farewell  forever  to  our  ancient 
home,  and  you  surely  cannot  believe  that  the  gay  and  careless 
Henry  Maudsley,  caressed  by  the  world,  and  loving  its  caresses, 
is  likely  to  abandon  the  pleasures  of  his  youth  and  station  in 
England,  to  take  up  his  abode  in  the  deserts  of  the  new  world." 

"  I  know  not,  Esther,  Maudsley  is  of  an  adventurous  disposi. 
tion,  impressionable,  wayward,  but  of  a  deeper  and  a  stronger 
nature,  I  think,  than  you  believe." 

"  You  judge  him  too  generously,  I  fear,"  said  Esther.  "  But 
what  is  he  to  us  ?  We  have  looked  our  last  upon  him  —  for 
believe  me,  the  wilderness  is  no  place  for  him  —  the  ocean  rolls 
between  us  forever." 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


35 


The  conversation  here  ended  abruptly  —  Ludlow  saying  that 
he  had  papers  to  examine,  turned  back  to  their  residence.  This 
was  a  rude  but  extensive  log-house,  which  stood  on  the  edge  of 
the  forest,  surrounded  by  a  small  plot  of  garden  ground.  In 
its  neighborhood  were  two  smaller  buildings  of  the  same  char 
acter,  appropriated  to  the  half  dozen  bound  servants  whom 
Ludlow  had  brought  with  him,  and  the  whole  precinct  was 
inclosed  with  a  ten  foot  palisade,  formed  by  unbarked  trees 
driven  close  together  into  the  earth,  presenting  an  humble  but 
picturesque  appearance. 

Esther  sat  musing  long  and  deeply  upon  the  rustic  seat, 
formed  upon  the  stump  of  a  gigantic  oak,  where  she  had  been 
conversing  with  her  brother.  It  seemed  a  strange  effect  of 
destiny,  that  so  beautiful  a  creature,  well  born,  accomplished, 
and  gifted  with  higher  and  stronger  intellectual  powers  than 
often  falls  to  the  lot  of  woman,  should  thus  be  seated  musing 
alone  in  that  wild  forest.  Esther  was  beautiful.  Her  features, 
although  distinguished  by  an  extreme  purity  of  outline,  possessed 
great  mobility  and  variety  of  expression ;  her  fair  hair  was 
smoothed  placidly  from  a  forehead,  which,  as  in  all  classic  faces, 
was  rather  low,  but  of  madonna-like  breadth  and  pensiveness  • 
her  eyes  were  long  and  full,  and  thoughtful  rather  than  passion 
ate.  Her  sad-colored  garments,  of  the  unadorned  simplicity 
affected  by  the  Puritan  women  of  England,  were  not  unbecom 
ing  to  a  figure  slightly  exceeding  middle  height,  and  possessing 
the  robust,  healthful,  but  eminently  feminine  development  char 
acteristic  of  English  beauty,  and  heightened  her  resemblance  to 
those  types  of  virgin  grace  and  purity,  the  early  madonnas, 
painted  by  Raphael,  while  something  of  Perrugino's  severity  still 
lingered  around  his  pencil. 

Wearied  with  her  solitary  reflections,  she  at  last  arose  and 
wandered  through  the  open  glade  which  stretched  from  the  edge 
of  the  pine  forest  near  their  residence,  and  was  ornamented 


36  MERRY-MOUNT. 


with  magnificent  oaks  of  many  a  century's  growth,  and  covered 
with  strong  coarse  grass,  springing  in  wild  luxuriance  from  the 
virgin  soil.  She  amused  herself  with  gathering  a  few  violets, 
almost  buried  in  the  rank  verdure,  and  sighed  as  she  compared 
their  almost  scentless  petals  with  the  delicious  fragrance  of  their 
sister  flowers  at  home. 

The  oaks  which  studded  the  waving  sea  of  turf  around  her, 
brought  to  her  remembrance  the  bosky  parks  and  ancestral  trees 
of  England,  and  the  early  birds  of  spring,  filling  the  air  with 
their  clamorous  melody,  as  they  darted  from  the  ground,  or  made 
the  leafless  spray  vocal  with  their  love  songs,  soothed  her 
thoughts,  and  bore  them  far  away  to  softer  and  fondly  re 
membered  scenes. 

She  had  wandered  insensibly  farther  from  her  palisaded  home 
than  she  intended,  and  was  approaching  a  thickly  wooded  and 
swampy  forest  of  maples  and  birches,  in  which  the  glade  was 
terminated,  when  she  was  suddenly  startled  from  her  reverie,  by 
a  low,  suppressed  noise,  which  strangely  resembled  the  angry 
growling  of  a  dog.  What  was  her  horror  upon  looking  up,  to 
behold  a  large  wolf  upon  the  verge  of  the  thicket,  standing 
motionless  with  eyes  glaring  full  upon  her,  twenty  paces  from 
the  spot  where  she  stood. 

The  animal  was  as  large  as  the  largest  sized  dog,  and  might 
have  been  mistaken  for  one,  but  for  his  small  erect  ears,  pointed 
snout,  and  long  bushy  tail,  resembling  that  of  a  fox.  Grisly 
grey  in  color,  broad  breasted,  lean  paunched,  with  yellow  green 
eyes  flashing  savage  fire  upon  her,  he  sat  upon  his  haunches, 
motionless,  as  if  carved  in  stone,  and  fascinating  the  lonely 
girl  by  his  fixed  and  terrible  stare. 

The  American  wolf  is  a  ferocious,  but  comparatively  a 
cowardly  animal,  and  except  impelled  by  famine  is  slow  to 
attack  the  human  race.  The  winter  had,  however,  been  long 
and  stern,  and  these  savage  creatures  had  often  hunted  in  droves 


MERRY-MOUNT.  37 


about  the  neighborhood,  preying  upon  the  few  domestic  animals, 
which  the  planters  had  brought  with  them,  and  filling  the  air  at 
midnight  with  their  bowlings.  Esther  was  aware  that  the 
courageous  men,  who  inhabited  that  lonely  wilderness,  were 
accustomed  to  encounter  these  brutes,  single-handed,  without 
fear,  and  she  had  often  been  told  that  the  animal  would  shrink 
like  a  whipped  cur  from  the  attack  of  man.  Cut  thus,  solitary, 
and  far  from  help,  to  be  confronted  with  a  ferocious  beast  of  the 
forest,  was  a  fearful  thing  for  a  maiden  nurtured  all  her  life  in 
the  security  of  a  civilized  land.  Frozen  almost  to  a  statue  with 
terror,  with  marble  cheek,  rigid  lips,  suppressed  breath,  and 
eyes  almost  starting  from  their  sockets,  she  instinctively,  and  as 
if  impelled  by  an  irresistible  fascination,  gazed  full  into  the 
eyes  of  her  ferocious  antagonist.  The  lion  is  fabled  to  crouch 
submissively  at  a  virgin's  feet,  but  the  wolf  who  cowers  before 
the  strong  man  was  never  thought  to  be  generous  to  the  helpless. 
Was  it  then  the  mysterious  power  of  the  human  eye,  which 
seemed  to  exert  its  subtle  and  unfathomable  influence  upon  that 
compact  mass  of  savage  sinew,  bone,  and  muscle,  subjugating 
the  will  which  they  should  have  instinctively  obeyed,  and  check 
ing  the  wild  impulse  which  would  have  driven  the  brute,  with 
one  savage  bound,  upon  its  prey  ?  Could  it  be  fear  that  kept  the 
monster  motionless,  crouching,  but  glaring  still  with  those  eye 
balls  of  fire  ?  Was  it  all  real,  or  was  her  fearful  foe  but  a 
phantom  of  her  heated  imagination? 

Her  brain  reeled,  the  vast  and  leafless  oaks  seemed  to  whirl 
and  dance  around  her  ;  the  mighty  forest,  swaying  before  the 
rising  wind,  seemed  to  rush  through  the  air,  sweeping  and 
shifting  from  earth  to  heaven,  as  in  the  mad  and  bewildering 
changes  of  a  dream.  The  incessant  and  shrill  notes  of  a 
thousand  singing  birds  thrilled  in  her  ears  like  the  warning  cry 
of  invisible  spirits.  Every  thing  seemed  to  move  and  change 
around  her ;  there  was  a  rushing  in  her  ears,  as  of  a  mighty 

VOL.   I.  4 


38  MERRY-MOUNT. 


wind,  and  then  all  seemed  growing  black  as  a  funeral  pall. 
She  roused  herself  from  the  swoon  which  she  felt  was  coming 
over  her.  It  was  no  dream,  the  woods  had  ceased  to  move,  save 
to  the  gentle  impulse  of  the  morning  breeze ;  she  was  alone  in 
the  wilderness,  and  there  stood  the  gaunt  wolf,  with  his  glit 
tering  teeth  and  fearful  stare,  motionless  and  threatening  as 
before. 

She  roused  herself  at  last,  and  became  perfectly  calm.  She 
reflected  that  the  beast  who  shrunk  from  the  conflict  with  a 
man,  might  even  cower  before  the  attack  of  a  determined 
woman. 

She  had  a  slight  branch  in  her  hand,  which  she  had  acci 
dentally  picked  from  the  ground  in  her  walk  —  a  dried,  leafless, 
last  year's  shoot,  feeble  as  a  rush,  and  held  in  the  weak  hand  of 
a  woman.  But  she  had  aroused  her  spirit  now ;  her  heart  throb 
bed  high  with  excitement,  and  the  blood  which  had  been  chilled 
bounded  like  impetuous  fire  through  her  veins.  She  advanced 
a  step  forward,  brandishing  the  weapon  above  her  head,  with  her 
eyes  flashing  full  upon  her  adversary.  The  wolf  sprang  to  his 
feet,  glared  fixedly  upon  her,  but  stood  motionless  as  before. 
He  seemed  irresolute,  whether  to  advance  upon  his  antagonist, 
or  to  retreat  into  the  forest.  She  moved  a  step  nearer,  her  nerves 
quivering  with  strange  excitement.  It  was  a  contest  not  of 
strength,  but  of  nerve  ;  not  of  muscle,  but  of  spirit.  Her  foe 
remained  motionless  upon  his  feet.  She  advanced  another  step. 
She  was  near  enough  to  hear  his  suppressed  breathing.  Ano 
ther,  and  the  wolf  with  a  furious  glare  opened  his  armed  jaws, 
and  uttered  a  long,  dismal  howl,  which  resounded  fearfully 
through  the  forest,  and  struck  renewed  terror  to  the  heart  of 
the  unprotected  girl. 

She  paused  again,  as  if  paralyzed,  and  stood  unable  to  ad 
vance  or  to  retreat,  within  ten  yards  of  the  ferocious  brute,  who 
remained  still  glaring,  and  motionless,  but  seeming  less  intirni- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  39 


dated  than  enraged.  Esther's  strength  began  to  fail  her  —  her 
prayers  froze  upon  her  lips  —  her  eyes  grew  dim  —  but,  even  as 
they  glazed,  she  saw  the  wolf  springing  towards  her.  Suddenly 
the  bushes  of  a  remote  thicket  cracked  beneath  an  advancing 
step  ;  the  report  of  a  firearm  rang  through  the  wood,  and  the 
furious  beast,  bounding  high  in  air,  fell  stone  dead  at  her  feet. 

Exhausted  by  emotion,  overwhelmed  by  the  sudden  change 
from  imminent  and  fearful  death,  to  life  and  safety  again,  Esther 
sank  insensible  upon  the  ground.  The  hunter,  to  whose  sure 
but  distant  aim  her  preservation  was  owing,  struggled  slowly 
through  the  tangled  and  swampy  thicket  through  which  he  had 
plunged  to  her  rescue,  when  suddenly  a  tall  form,  in  a  short, 
dark  cloak,  and  steeple-crowned  hat,  strode  down  the  glade  from 
the  opposite  quarter,  lifted  the  unconscious  maiden  in  his 
arms,  and  bore  her  towards  her  residence.  That  man  was  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner. 

A  moment  afterwards,  a  young  man,  in  hunting  attire,  emerged 
breathless  from  the  thicket,  and  stood  upon  the  spot  where 
Esther  Ludlow  had  for  a  few  moments  endured  such  speechless 
agony,  and  where,  but  for  his  prompt  assistance,  she  must  have 
died  a  fearful  death. 

The  youth  was  tall  and  slender,  but  active  and  muscular. 
His  chestnut  love-locks,  long  enough  to  distract  the  whole  con 
gregation  at  Plymouth,  his  clear,  hazel  eye,  and  regular  features, 
proclaimed  his  Anglo  Saxon  blood,  which  his  bronzed  cheek  and 
wild  attire  might  have  almost  rendered  doubtful. 

Esther  was  gone,  and  there  was  nothing  upon  the  sward  save 
the  bleeding  carcass  of  the  wolf.  The  hunter  spurned  it  con 
temptuously  with  his  foot,  and  then  leaned,  lost  in  thought,  upon 
his  fowling-piece. 


40  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    MISRULE    OF    MERRY-MOUNT. 

WE  must  now  shift  the  scene  again  to  Massachusetts  Bay ;  for 
Naumkeak,  being  without  the  semicircle  inclosed  between  the 
points  Nahant  and  Nantasco,  was  not  a  part  of  the  territory 
which  then  bore  that  denomination. 

Upon  the  southern  side  of  the  bay,  and  a  little  westerly  from 
the  mouth  of  Wessaguscus  river,  upon  which  the  unsuccessful 
plantations  of  Weston  and  Captain  Gorges  had  been  seated, 
stands  Mount  Wollaston.  It  was  here  that  the  reader's  ac 
quaintance,  Thomas  Morton,  after  the  spot  had  been  deserted 
by  the  original  founder  of  the  settlement,  had  established  his 
whimsical  sovereignty. 

A  miscellaneous  collection  of  settlers,  some  of  them  servants 
of  the  original  proprietors,  and  some  of  them  adventurers  of 
various  degree,  had  crystallized  about  this  point  as  a  common 
centre.  These,  with  a  small  number  of  vagabond,  peaceable 
Indians,  the  broken  remnant  of  a  tribe  almost  annihilated  by  the 
pestilence,  and  who  entertained  much  the  same  kind  of  venera 
tion  for  their  white  superior,  which  the  savage  caliban  did  for 
Stephano  and  his  bottle,  composed  the  rabble  rout  which  the 
worthy  Morton  was  fond  of  calling  his  subjects. 

Merry-Mount  —  for  by  that  cheerful  title,  most  grating  to  the 
ear«  of  the  Plymouth  people,  was  the  place  now  designated  — 
was  as  agreeable  a  place  for  an  exile's  residence  as  could  have 
been  found  in  the  Bay.  In  the  centre  of  a  half  moon,  the  two 
horns  of  which  curved  outward  to  the  sea,  forming  a  broad  and 
sheltered  basin,  was  a  singularly  shaped,  long,  elevated  mound, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  4J 


rising  some  fifty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  tide.  It  was  a  natu 
ral  knoll  of  gravel,  resembling  in  its  uniformity  an  artificial  em 
bankment;  and  although  fringed  about  its  base  and  its  sides 
by  white  pines  and  red  cedars,  it  was  in  its  centre  entirely  bare 
of  wood,  and  presented  a  bold  front  to  the  sea,  which  was  sepa 
rated  from  it  only  by  a  narrow  strip  of  marsh.  Beyond  this 
cliff,  upon  the  right,  as  you  looked  from  the  hill  towards  the 
ocean,  was  the  broad  mouth  of  Wessnguscus  river;  upon  the 
left,  a  slender  creek  wound  its  tortuous  way,  through  a  consid 
erable  extent  of  salt  marsh  to  the  sea.  Beyond  the  creek  and 
the  marsh,  was  a  line  of  prettily  indented  coast,  with  the  pic 
turesque  promontory  of  Squantum  bending  sharply  towards  the 
ocean,  near  which,  on  the  landward  side,  was  a  large,  wooded, 
island-like  hammock,  called  Massachusetts,  or  the  Arrow  Head, 
the  residence,  previously  to  the  plague,  of  Chickatabot,  sagamore 
of  the  adjacent  territory  called  the  Massachusetts  Fields.  Many 
gently  swelling  hills  rose,  one  upon  the  other,  beyond,  thickly 
crowned  with  white  oak,  hickory,  and  ash,  whose  gigantic,  but 
still  leafless  tracery,  was  clearly  defined  upon  the  sombre  back 
ground  of  the  shadowy  pine  forests,  which  closed  the  view 
towards  Shawmut,  and  completely  shut  out  that  peninsula. 

On  the  inland  side,  the  eye  was  delighted  with  a  soft  and 
beautiful  panorama.  As  the  region  had  long  been  inhabited,  at 
previous  epochs,  by  the  Indians,  there  were  many  open  clear 
ings ;  and  the  underbrush  and  thicket  having  been,  according  to 
their  custom,  constantly  burned,  the  tall  oaks  and  chestnuts 
grew  every  where  in  unincumbered  magnificence,  and  decorated 
a  sylvan  scene,  of  rolling  hills,  wide  expanses,  and  woody 
dells,  more  tranquil  and  less  savage  than  could  have  been 
looked  for  in  the  wilderness.  Seaward,  from  the  Mount,  the 
view  was  enchanting.  Round  islands,  tufted  with  ancient  trees, 
and  looking  like  broken  links  from  the  chain  of  hills  around, 
seemed  to  float  far  out  upon  the  waves,  till  they  were  one  be- 
4* 


42  MERRY-MOUNT. 


yond  another  lost  in  the  blue  distance;  while  a  low,  but  beauti 
fully  broken  line  of  coast,  fringed  the  purple  expanse  of  the 
surrounding  ocean,  and  completed  the  wilderness  picture,  fresh 
from  the  hand  of  Nature. 

In  a  sheltered  nook,  at  the  base  of  the  cliff,  with  the  river  on 
the  right,  an  inlet  from  the  Atlantic  in  front,  and  embowered 
with  ancient  oaks,  stood  a  very  large,  rambling,  picturesque 
house,  built  of  the  unbarked  trunks  of  colossal  trees,  squared, 
and  cemented  together  with  clay.  Adjacent  was  a  large  plot  of 
garden  ground,  and  scattered  around,  in  pretty  close  proximity, 
were  some  twenty  smaller  log  huts,  interspersed  occasionally 
with  rude  Indian  wigwams.  A  space  of  a  dozen  acres,  in 
cluding  the  Mount,  was  inclosed  by  a  strong  palisade,  and  upon 
the  summit  of  the  hill  was  a  small  fort,  provided  with  a  couple 
of  murtherers,  or  demi-culverins. 

Such  was  Merry-Mount,  and  such  the  domain  of  Thomas 
Morton,  suzerain  of  Merry-Mount,  as  he  styled  himself,  and 
Master  of  Misrule  as  he  was  designated  by  the  Plymouth  people, 
to  whom  he  was  an  abomination. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  foggy  and  ungenial  day.  A 
noise  of  merriment  within  the  "  Palace,"  as  Morton  denom 
inated  his  log-house,  caused  the  ancient  forest  to  ring  again.  In 
the  principal  apartment,  was  spread  a  long  and  ample  table. 
Upon  the  rude  but  capacious  hearth  blazed  a  mighty  pile  of 
hickory  logs,  crackling  defiance  to  the  rain  and  wind  that  were 
beating  and  howling  without;  while,  for  additional  illumination, 
were  huge  torches  of  pitch  pine,  stuck  in  pewter  sconces,  and 
emitting  a  shifting  but  brilliant  flare,  which  lighted  up  the 
gathering  twilight  of  the  perverse  April  evening. 

Seated  at  the  head  of  his  rude  table,  with  pipe  in  mouth,  and 
a  vast  tankard  at  his  elbow,  was  seated  the  Lord  of  Merry- 
Mount.  At  some  distance  below,  was  seated  his  lieutenant, 
Robin  Bootefish,  of  the  purple  proboscis.  Next  to  him  was 


MERRY-MOUNT.  43 


seated  a  thin,  spare  individual,  with  a  face  like  a  roasted  apple, 
brown  and  puckered,  with  a  thousand  wrinkles  —  with  glittering 
black  eyes  —  and  with  wild,  staring,  iron-grey  hair,  rising  above 
his  head  like  a  halo. 

Opposite  to  him  was  a  swarthy,  sprawling,  good-for-nothing 
looking  vagabond,  with  long  legs,  a  short  body,  and  monstrously 
long  hair,  ostentatiously  combed  down  towards  his  shoulders, 
surmounted  with  a  cap,  slouched  very  much  upon  one  side,  and 
ornamented  with  an  eagle's  feather.  Next  to  him  was  a  little 
man  witli  a  yellow  jerkin,  yellow  hose,  a  yellow  beard,  and  a 
yellow  complexion,  with  a  piping  voice,  a  pointed  nose,  and  a 
restless  demeanor,  who  was  forever  hopping  on  and  off  his  stool, 
and  bobbing  about  from  one  place  to  another,  with  such  smirk 
ing  vivacity,  that,  in  view  of  all  these  qualities,  the  master  of 
Merry-Mount  had  christened  him  the  Canary  Bird,  although  his 
true  name,  as  he  would  frequently  aver,  in  the  shrillest  and  most 
chirping  tones,  was  in  reality  Bcrnaby  Dory  fall.  Besides  these 
individuals,  were  a  few  others,  not  worthy  of  being  particu 
larized,  who  were  pretty  much  of  the  same  stamp,  all  careless, 
jovial  vagabonds,  all  with  pipes  in  their  mouths,  and  all  occupied 
very  indefatigably  in  pushing  about  a  jorum,  brewed  in  some 
magnificent,  but  to  common  minds  utterly  incomprehensible 
manner,  by  the  master  hand  of  Robert  Bootefish,  chief  butler, 
head  clerk  and  precentor  of  Merry-Mount.  Apart  from  the  rest, 
and  very  near  the  master  of  revels,  sat  an  extremely  handsome 
young  man,  of  an  elegance  of  person  and  demeanor  totally 
distinguishing  him  from  the  principal  pnrt  of  the  company. 
Squatted  upon  their  hams  within  the  ample  fire-place,  were  the 
two  Indians  whom  the  reader  has  seen  in  the  first  chapter,  and 
who  were  grunting  to  each  other  occasionally,  in  some  nonde 
script  gutturals,  which  they  evidently  mistook  for  language,  in 
a  very  boosy  and  dignified  manner. 

"  Robin  Bootefish,"  said  the  suzerain,  addressing  the  reader's 


44  MERRY-MOUNT. 


old  acquaintance,  "  thou  deservest  to  be  installed  forever  as  chief 
priest  of  the  fountain  of  Merry-Mount.  You  are  aware,  Master 
Maudsley,"  continued  he,  turning  to  the  young  man  who  sat  on 
his  right,  "  you  are  aware  that  there  are  many  fountains  of  rare 
and  curious  merit  in  this  wilderness ;  so  that  the  future  Moses 
who  shall  lead  the  Puritans  to  this  Canaan,  will  need  to  smite  no 
rock  for  their  water." 

"  Truly,  Master  Morton,"  answered  the  young  gentleman, 
"  the  fountain  presided  over  by  your  butler  and  friend,  Robert 
Bootjack ." 

"  Bootefish,  your  honor,"  interposed  the  worthy  butler  with 
calm  dignity. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  Robert  Bootefish,"  resumed  Maudsley, 
"  is  a  fountain  of  quite  sufficient  merit  to  find  in  the  wilderness, 
and  one  quite  equal  to  assuage  the  thirst  of  all  the  Puritans  of 
New  Canaan.  But  of  what  other  fountains  do  you  speak?" 

"  Marry  at  Winnesimit,"  answered  Morton,  "  is  a  fountain  of 
wonderful  virtue  for  the  fair  sex.  'T  is  said  and  proved  that  one 
glass  cures  the  most  obstinate  barrenness ;  so  that  we  may  be 
sure,  if  the  place  ever  comes  to  be  settled,  'twill  be  blessed  with 
a  most  redundant  population." 

"  A  fountain  haunted  not  by  Egeria,  but  Lucina,"  said  Mauds- 
ley  ;  "  and  to  what  others  do  you  allude  ?  " 

"  Next,  and  in  this  neighborhood,"  replied  Morton,  "  over  at 
Squanto's  chapel  yonder,  is  a  fountain  of  a  most  remarkable 
power ;  for  its  waters  cause  a  dead  sleep  of  forty-eight  hours  to 
those  who  drink  forty-eight  ounces  at  a  draught,  and  so  on  pro- 
portionably."  * 

"  And  are  you  chymist  enough  to  solve  the  mystery  of  its 
waters  ?  "  asked  Maudsley. 

(i  No,  truly,"  said  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount,  '« unless  it  be 
that  the  Puritans  of  Plymouth  have  buried  their  oldest  and  most 

*  See  Note  II. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  45 


soporific  sermons  within  the  grave  of  their  honored  and  red- 
legged  friend  Squantum,  who  is  entombed  there.  But,  what 
ever  be  the  cause,  the  fact  is  unquestionable.  The  great  Powahs 
were  accustomed  to  go  thither  to  drink  of  the  fountain,  and 
when  filled  with  its  inspiration  they  would  astonish  their  disciples 
with  the  multitude  and  magnificence  of  their  visions.  But  after 
all,  as  you  say,  Master  Maudsley,  the  fountain  of  Merry-Mount 
for  inc.  The  worst  crime  that  the  brethren  can  find  in  me  is 
my  merriment;  but  by  Jupiter,  'tis  a  complaint  they  will  never 
catch,  however  contagious.  So  what  harm  can  I  do  their  saint- 
ships  ? " 

"  Truly  you  seem  to  be  a  martyr  indeed,  Master  Morton," 
said  Maudsley  ;  "  and,  considering  that  the  brethren  have  no 
more  jurisdiction  over  your  territory  than  the  Khan  of  Tartary, 
one  would  think  they  might  let  you  alone." 

'•'  And  so  they  might ;  for,  as  you  say,  the  devil  a  bit  of  terri 
tory  does  their  patent,  which  they  have  got  at  last,  give  to  them 
north  of  yonder  river  of  Wessaguscus.  But  my  noise  and  my 
mirth  offends  them,  it  seems  —  s'death,  have  they  ever  inquired 
whether  their  gravity  offendeth  me  or  not  ?  What  would  they 
say,  think  you,  should  I  issue  a  proclamation  from  this  my  palace 
of  Merry-Mount,  forbidding  all  prophesying  at  Plymouth  —  cut 
ting  of  all  anthems,  and  putting  them  upon  a  rigid  allowance  of 
sermons,  say  one  yard  to  the  hour  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  think  they  would  be  very  likely,"  answered  Mauds- 
ley,  "  to  send  your  herald  back  to  you  abridged  of  his  ears." 

"And  yet  I  have  as  much  lawful  jurisdiction  over  them,  as 
they  over  the  sovereign  of  Merry-Mount ;  and  in  the  eye  of 
reason  and  equity  I  should  be  more  justifiable  than  themselves. 
Is  not  mirth  more  philosophical  than  tears?  A  plague  on  their 
doleful  dumps.  You  are  a  scholar,  Master  Maudsley  —  what 
says  our  friend  Iloratius  Flaccus  on  this  point  ? 

'  Misce  stultitiam  consiliis  brevcm.'  " 


46  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Yes  indeed,"  says  Maudsley,  to  the  infinite  satisfaction  of 
Morton,  adding  the  concluding  line  of  the  ode,  — 

*  Dulce  est  desipere  in  loco.' 

So  pass  round  the  tankard,  Master  Morton — the  jaws  of 
Bootefish  are  gaping  like  a  stranded  codfish." 

"  How  can  I  express  my  delight  to  you,  most  excellent  young 
man,"  cried  Morton,  almost  falling  upon  Maudsley's  neck. 
"  You  know  not  how  I  pine  in  these  illiterate  deserts  for  a  com 
panion  skilled  in  the  humanities.  Saving  and  excepting  the 
grim  Sir  Christopher,  who  is  a  scholar  as  he  is  every  thing  else 
on  the  earth  beneath,  there  is  no  human  being  to  consort  with 
me  who  has  read  the  first  book  of  Horace,  or  knows  it  from  the 
first  of  Chronicles.  Truly,  like  the  clown  in  the  wilderness,  in 
worthy  Will  Shakspeare's  comedy,  do  I  resemble  that  most 
capricious  poet,  honest  Ovid,  among  the  Goths.  Judge,  then, 
of  my  delight  in  meeting  with  you  in  the  wilderness." 

'•  Master  Maudsley's  health,"  cried  the  worthy  butler,  taking 
a  mighty  pull  at  the  tankard,  wiping  the  froth  from  his  beard 
and  handing  it  to  his  neighbor. 

"  Master  Maudsley's  health,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the 
roast-apple  physiognomy,  plunging  his  face  into  the  flagon,  and 
becoming  so  immersed,  either  in  the  fluid  or  profound  thought, 
that  he  forgot  to  take  it  out  again  till  the  tankard  was  dry. 

"  I  say,  Peter  Cakebread,  none  of  that,"  said  the  lengthy 
individual  with  the  cap  and  feather,  taking  up  the  empty  flagon, 
and  ringing  it  discontentedly  upon  the  table,  —  ''I  never  saw 
such  a  pump.  The  suction  of  your  skinny  varlets  passeth  in 
deed.  Robin  Bootefish,  I'll  trouble  thee  to  supply  the  tank 
again.  After  Cakebread,  'tis  nobody's  turn,  thou  knowest,  till 
that  be  done.  Why  Peter,  the  Red  Sea  would  be  nothing  to 
thee —  and  thou  might' st  drink  it  up  for  the  new  Canaanites  to 
pass  over,  dry  shod." 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


47 


"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman  addressed,  with  his  little  beady 
eyes,  glittering  like  a  toad's  upon  his  brown,  wrinkled  lace.  "  I 
thank  my  stars  that  I  can  look  to  the  bottom  of  a  tankard  through 
all  obstacles.  But  tliou  art  mighty  scriptural,  Humphrey  Red- 
nape  ;  anybody  can  see  that  thou  hast  not  sojourned  at  Plymouth 
for  nothing.  Marry  thou  hast  lent  an  ear  to  the  brethren  indeed." 

The  face  of  the  lengthy  individual,  who  had  left  an  ear  upon 
the  Plymouth  pillory,  was  suffused  with  passion  in  an  instant  at 
the  phrase.  Clapping  his  hat  still  more  (irmly  upon  the  side  of 
his  head,  and  shaking  his  clenched  fist  at  the  speaker,  lie  vocife 
rated,  — 

"  Peter  Cakebread,  have  a  care  —  if  thou  canst  swallow  every 
thing,  marry  so  cannot  I.  Another  such  cowardly  allusion  to 

As  the  unfortunate  Rednape  was  chafing  under  the  gibes  of 
the  unpitying  Cakebread,  the  replenished  tankard  was  placed 
before  him,  and,  without  more  ado,  he  buried  his  face  and  his 
rage  together  in  the  comforting  fluid,  seeking  to  drown  the  voice 
of  his  savage  tormentor.  As  his  countenance  emerged  from  the 
tankard  after  a  very  satisfactory  and  refreshing  pull,  the  taunting 
voice  of  Cakebread,  repeating  his  mockery,  struck  on  his  solitary 
ear,  and  again  awakened  his  wrath. 

"  Take  that,  thou  malicious  old  baboon,  to  stop  thy  infernal 
chattering,"  roared  he,  dashing  the  flagon  full  in  his  enemy's 
face,  and  then  hurling  the  flagon  itself  at  his  head. 

Cakebread  escaped  with  the  shower  bath,  for,  ducking  his 
head  with  agility,  he  avoided  the  huge  missile,  which  would 
have  assuredly  put  an  end  to  his  joking,  if  it  had  hit  the  mark  at 
which  with  hearty  good-will  it  was  aimed. 

His  countenance,  when  he  again  ventured  to  lift  it  from  the 
table,  was  sloppy  and  woe-begone  enough  ;  but  the  malice  of  his 
beady  eyes  was  not  quite  extinguished. 

"Hallo!  —  What  is   all  this?"  cried   Morton,  rapping  upon 


48  MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  table  with  the  hilt  of  his  dagger.  "  Rednape  —  Cakebread 
—  what  mean  ye  by  these  quarrels  and  cuffings  ?  Cannot  ye  in 
dulge  in  the  good  things  provided  by  my  paternal  care,  without 
riot? 

'  Natis  in  usum  leetitiae  scyphis 
Pugnare,  Thracum  est,' 

which  in  the  vernacular  is,  '  None  but  blackguards  break  heads 
with  the  jolly  tankard'  — so  hold  your  tongues,  and  give  ear  to 
my  counsel." 

"  He  has  but  one  to  give,"  muttered  the  incorrigible  Cake- 
bread,  but  in  so  low  a  tone  that  it  escaped  the  attention  of  Red- 
nape. 

"And  what  is  to  become  of  us,  I  should  like  to  be  informed  ? " 
chirped  the  Canary  Bird,  hopping  off  his  stool,  and  running  to 
pick  up  the  fallen  flagon  —  "  what  is  to  become  of  us,  I  ask  ? 
Here  be  these  twain  —  Rednape  and  Cakebread — have  con 
sumed  the  lining  of  two  tankards,  and  the  devil  a  drop  have  the 
rest  of  us  to  wet  our  whistles  withal." 

"Get  on  thy  perch  again,  Canary,"  said  the  master  of  the 
revels,  and  shut  thy  bill ;  Bootefish  shall  administer  to  thy 
wants.  Robert,  be  lively,  man." 

"  Certainly,  if  your  honor  commands,"  said  that  important 
personage  ;  "  but  if  I  had  my  own  way,  not  another  drop 
should  be  set  on  the  table  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  A  pretty 
thing,  forsooth,  if  I,  Robert  Bootefish,  butler,  precentor,  and 
head  clerk,  am  to  do  nothing  but  run  to  and  fro,  at  the  com 
mand  of  these  wasteful  vagabonds.  If  the  good  liquor,  prepared 
by  these  skilful  hands,  had  gone  to  its  lawful  and  proper  place, 
never  a  word  would  I  say ;  but  when  I  see  these  roystering  sots 
sprinkling  each  other's  heads  like  cabbages,  and  as  if  the  flagon 
were  a  watering-pot,  I  will  take  it  upon  me  to  pronounce  them 
worse  than  Indians,  or  pagans,  or  heathen  Puritans  themselves." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  49 


"  Well,  well,  old  puncheon,"  chirped  the  impatient  Doryfall, 
don't  grumble  any  more,  but  stir  thy  stumps  and  the  liquor.  I 
am  as  dry  as  an  exhortation  ;  I  shall  evaporate  unless  thou 
wettest  me.  Life  is  dust,  but  the  clay  must  be  moistened  —  so 
get  along,  old  hogshead." 

"  Take  care  I  don't  wring  thy  neck,  Master  Canary,  and 
spoil  thy  drinking  forever,"  said  the  irascible  Bootefish,  feeling 
his  dignity  invaded,  but  stumping  solemnly  off  in  search  of  the 
desired  liquor. 

"  My  name  is  Bernaby  Doryfall,  and  a  very  good  name  too," 
piped  the  good-humored  Canary  Bird,  "  but  call  me  what  thou 
likest,  so  thou  starvest  us  not.  To  the  health  and  long  life  of 
Master  Maudsley,"  concluded  he,  thrusting  his  bill  into  the 
tankard  which  the  chief  butler  soon  placed  upon  the  table. 

The  toast  and  tankard  went  round,  and  then  other  toasts  and 
other  tankards  went  round  and  round  again.  The  mirth  grew 
loud  and  furious.  Songs  to  which  nobody  listened,  glees  of 
discordant  and  unhappy  sound,  and  catches  in  which  every 
thing  was  caught  but  the  tune,  succeeded  each  other  in  bewil 
dering  and  still  increasing  confusion.  Faster  and  faster  flew 
the  flagon,  louder  and  louder  grew  the  uproar,  thicker  and 
thicker  rose  the  unceasing  tobacco  smoke,  till  it  hung  all  over 
them  like  a  thick  grey  fog,  through  which  the  pine  torches 
wildly  flashed  and  flared.  It  was  a  picture  of  wildly  contrasted 
light  and  shadow,  that  evening  scene  of  frantic  revelry.  That 
strange,  rude  banquet,  that  roughly  raftered  and  uncouth  apart 
ment,  those  parti-colored  and  half  savage  costumes,  those  swart 
and  bearded  faces  now  flashing  with  fierce  laughter,  now  black 
with  sudden  anger,  now  softening  with  drunken  tenderness, 
were  worthy  of  a  Caravaggio's  pencil. 

Maudsley  sat  in  his  place,  a  spectator,  not  an  actor  in  the 
merriment.  He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  forth,  and  then 
returned  to  contemplate  the  scene.  The  uproar  sounded  un- 

VOL.  i.  5 


50  MERRY-MOUNT. 


naturally  in  that  wilderness-spot,  the  frequent  oath,  the  ribald 
jest,  the  deafening  and  incessant  song,  and  shout,  and  yell, 
broke  strangely  forth  upon  the  solemn  night  —  rang  through  the 
stern  and  mirky  forest,  and  awoke  but  to  overpower  the  hooting 
owl,  and  the  howling  wolf,  with  the  wilder  and  more  discordant 
notes  of  humanity. 

"  Are  these  the  men,"  said  Maudsley  to  himself,  "  are  these 
the  men  to  found  an  empire  ?  Are  these  the  pioneers  of  civi 
lization  and  Christianity  in  this  benighted  but  virgin  world  ? 
By  such  ribalds  as  these  are  colonies  torn  from  the  parent  trunk, 
and  planted  in  the  wilderness  to  blossom  and  grow  strong  ?  " 

While  he  was  musing,  the  storm  had  increased  without,  and 
now  howled  fearfully  around  the  quaking  house,  the  rain  beat  in 
torrents  upon  the  roof,  while  the  uproar  of  the  elements  seemed 
but  to  add  fresh  excitement  to  the  furious  riot  of  that  revelling 
crew  within. 

Suddenly  a  faint  knocking  was  heard  at  the  outer  door.  "  A 
visitor,  and  at  this  time  of  night,  and  in  this  foul  weather  too !  " 
exclaimed  Morton.  "  Bootefish,  to  the  door,  man,  and  admit  the 
wanderer." 

"  Please  your  honor's  worship,"  replied  the  chief  butler, 
very  reluctant  to  disturb  himself,  "'tis  none  of  our  own 
company,  'tis  probably  some  tipsy  heathen  of  an  Indian  or 
vagrant  Puritan." 

"  Robert  Bootefish,"  interrupted  Morton,  with  a  solemn, 
theatrical,  but  slightly  tipsy  expression,  "  it  is  a  night,  as  the 
worthy  deer  stealer  of  Stratford  hath  it, 

'  Wherein  the  cubdrawn  bear  would  crouch, 
The  lion  and  the  belly  pinched  wolf 
Keep  their  fur  dry .'  " 

"  Aye,"  interrupted  Maudsley  in  his  turn,  "  and  yet  perhaps 
as  for  this  poor  devil, 

*  Unbonneted  he  runs.' 


MERRY-MOUNT.  51 


But  the  wanderer  to  night,  unbonneted  or  unbreeched,  sachem, 
or  settler,  powah  or  Puritan,  shall  dry  his  fur  at  yonder  fire, 
while  I  can  undo  the  latch;"  and  with  this  the  good-natured 
youth  anticipated  the  slow  movements  of  Bootefish,  and  threw 
the  door  open.  "  Who  knocks,"  cried  he,  for  not  a  soul  was 
visible  in  the  pitchy  darkness. 

"  Lo,  it  is  I,  a  wanderer  in  the  wilderness,"  answered  a  feeble 
voice  near  the  door. 

"  Come  in,  wanderer  of  the  wilderness,  and  shut  the  door 
after  thee,"  roared  the  jolly  voice  of  the  suzerain.  "  Come  to 
the  hospitable  hearth  of  Merry-Mount  —  dissolve  frigus  —  and 
take  a  pull  at  the  Bootefish  panacea  —  come  in  man  —  why, 
excellent  well,"  concluded  he,  as  Maudsley  introduced  a  slender, 
middle  aged  individual,  in  sad  colored  Puritanic  habiliments, 
faded,  patched,  and  travel  stained,  who  advanced  bashfully 
through  the  horde  of  revellers,  till  he  arrived  at  the  ample  fire 
place,  where  he  stood,  in  most  dismally  drenched  condition, 
with  the  water  dripping  from  his  thin  peaked  beard,  oozing 
from  every  corner  of  his  dress,  and  running  like  a  little  rivulet 
from  the  top  of  the  tall  hat  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"  Welcome  to  Merry-Mount,  most  worthy  wanderer,"  said 
Morton,  "  and  pray  whom  have  I  the  honor  of  addressing  ?  " 

The  thin,  half  drowned  little  man  looked  bewildered  enough, 
being  thus  suddenly  brought  from  the  wild  and  stormy  darkness 
without,  into  the  glaring,  hot,  and  fantastic  scene,  where  he 
now  stood,  a  most  striking  and  almost  pathetic  contrast  to  the 
other  actors  of  the  scene.  For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  have 
lost  the  faculty  of  speech. 

"Take  a  drop  of  this  fluid,"  said  Bootefish,  officially  wad 
dling  forward  with  his  tankard,  "  mayhap  it  may  loosen  the  rust 
from  that  tongue  of  yours,  if  so  be  you  have  a  tongue,  and 
have'nt  worn  it  to  a  stump  with  preaching  and  prophecying." 

The  Puritan  put  his  lips  meekly  to  the  tankard,  moistened  his 


52  MERRY-MOUNT. 


throat  with  a  very  little  of  the  liquid,  and  then  looked  wistfully 
at  the  company  around  him,  with  much  the  same  sort  of  expres 
sion,  which  a  kid  might  wear  at  being  suddenly  introduced  to  a 
select  circle  of  hyenas. 

"  Might  I  again  solicit  information  touching  thy  baptismal 
and  patronymic  denominations  ? "  said  Morton.  "  In  other 
words,  might  I  again  ask  thy  name  1  Zounds,  man,  don't  look 
as  if  we  were  all  rattlesnakes  —  who  art  thou?" 

"  Lo !  it  is  I,  a  poor  worm  and  not  a  man,  a  reproach  of  men 
and  despised  of  the  people,"  at  last  answered  the  wanderer  in 
a  plaintive  voice. 

"  And  that,  I  suppose,  we  are  to  consider  a  most  lucid  expla 
nation  of  your  appearance  and  present  position,"  said  Morton. 
"  Well,  well,  sit  down  by  the  fire,  dry  your  hide,  and  take 
another  pull  at  the  jorum." 

"  How  the  poor  worm,  as  he  calls  himself,  wriggles  and 
twists,"  said  Peter  Cakebread  to  the  Canary  Bird.  "  Zounds, 
I  think  some  of  the  fishers  of  men  down  at  new  Canaan  have 
thrust  a  hook  through  him,  and  thrown  him  as  a  bait  among  us 
here.  Don't  expect  to  catch  an  old  sinner  like  me,  Master 
worm  of  the  wilderness,"  concluded  the  brown  faced,  beady- 
eyed  Peter,  addressing  himself  to  the  Puritan. 

"Nonsense,  Peter  Cakebread,"  answered  the  Canary  Bird, 
"don't  suppose  he  comes  angling  for  such  slippery  old  eels  as 
you  —  your  're  half  singed  already  in  the  devil's  frying  pan. 
But  look  at  the  blushing  Bootefish  yonder,  hang  me,  if  he  does 
not  look  at  the  bait  longingly,  he  is  growing  serious.  Halloo, 
Bootefish,  take  care,  man  —  let  not  our  precentor  and  head 
clerk  g've  attention  to  the  wiles  of  the  artful  enemy —  no  non 
conformity  at  Merry-Mount,  you  know.  The  liturgy  and  good 
liquor  ft r ever  ! " 

"  Am  I  not  precentor  and  head  clerk  of  Merry-Mount,  I  pre 
sume  to  ask,"  said  Bootefish,  reddening  with  importance.  "  Do 


MERRY-MOUNT.  53 


I  not  convert  the  heathen  Turk  and  Pagan  Indian?  Well  then, 
why  not  the  heathen  Puritan  also  ?  I  shall  catechise  this  stray 
crop  ear  and  illuminate  his  darkness,  always  with  the  leave  of 
your  honor's  worship,"  concluded  he,  looking  towards  Master 
Morton. 

"  Certainly,  Robin,  certainly,"  said  the  master  of  the  revels, 
whose  delight  it  was  to  indulge  his  subjects  in  all  their  whims, 
and  to  keep  them  merry  and  good  natured ;  "make  as  many 
proselytes  as  thou  canst,  but  my  life  for  it,  thou'lt  find  a  Puritan 
more  stiff  necked  than  a  sagamore,  but  fur  be  it  from  me  to 
discourage  your  virtuous  efforts." 

In  the  meantime  the  poor  wanderer,  who  evidently  seemed  to 
feel  himself  more  uncomfortable  among  these  mad  and  riotous 
vagabonds,  than  he  had  done  amid  the  raging  tempest  and  the 
midnight  gloom,  from  which  he  had  recently  emerged,  sat  by 
the  fire,  his  hands  meekly  clasped,  his  eyes  piously  elevated,  and 
an  inaudible  prayer  upon  his  lips. 

"  Take  this  cloak,  old  fellow,  and  cast  off  that  drenched  and 
tattered  garment  of  yours,"  said  Maudsley,  bringing  a  warm 
cloak  of  ample  dimensions,  and  wrapping  it  snugly  about  the 
poor  pilgrim's  shivering  form. 

"  Thanks,  most  worthy  youth,"  said  the  wanderer,  looking 
gratefully  into  the  face  of  the  young  man,  in  whose  physiog 
nomy  alone,  of  all  the  strange  faces  which  surrounded  him,  he 
seemed  to  read  sympathy  and  protection.  "  Truly  my  garments 
are  not  of  the  driest,  for  lo !  I  am  poured  out  like  water,  and 
all  my  bones  are  out  of  joint,  my  heart  is  like  wax,  it  is  melted 
in  the  midst  of  my  bowels." 

"  Then,"  began  Bootefish,  with  oracular  gravity,  "  then,  thou 
perverse  contemner  of  the  holy  mother  church — then,  thou 
apostate  from  her,  who  would  have  suckled  thee  with  her  wings, 
and  sheltered  thee  in  the  shadow  of  her  paps  —  then,  if  thy 
bones  are  out  of  joint,  here  am  I,  Robin  Bootefish,  to  put  them 
5* 


54  MERRY-MOUNT. 


all  in  again,  with  the  help  of  my  blessed  exhortations,"  and 
with  this,  the  veteran  plucked  a  greasy  little  prayer-book,  very 
tattered  arid  liquor  stained,  from  his  pocket,  opened  it  at  hap 
hazard,  and  holding  it  upside  down,  began  piously  to  con  it 
inaudibly,  but  with  apparently  great  self-edification. 

While  this  drunken  foolery  was  going  on,  Maudsley  and 
Morton,  something  weary  of  the  folly,  and  who  wished  some 
private  conversation,  had  retired  into  the  adjoining  apartment, 
the  suzerain  having  appointed  Peter  Cakebread  to  officiate  in 
his  absence. 

The  rioting  and  folly  went  on  still  more  madly,  now  that  the 
restraint  of  their  superiors  was  removed  from  the  rest  of  the 
revellers. 

"Now  wanderer  and  worm  of  the  wilderness!"  exclaimed 
Peter  Cakebread,  flinging  his  thin,  spider  legs  upon^the  table,  and 
then  taking  a  mighty  pull  at  the  flagon,  "  now  thou  drunken 
miscreant  with  the  melted  bowels,  and  the  broken  bones,  please 
inform  this  righteous  and  pious  company  thy  name,  location, 
and  destination  —  answer,  and  at  once,  Croppy,  on  pain  of  my 
instantaneous  displeasure. 

"  My  name,"  answered  the  Puritan  meekly,  "is  Mellowes  — 
Faintnot  Mellowes.  I  was  some  time  an  unworthy  weaver  of 
Suffolkshire,  in  Old  England  —  now  a  pilgrim  in  the  land  of 
Canaan,  and  a  sojourner  in  New  Plymouth.  I  am  journeying  to 
Naumkeak  upon  urgent  business ;  after  which  I  look  intently  to 
return  to  my  helpmeet  and  my  blessed  babes,  whom  I  have  left 
in  the  wilderness." 

"  A  home  in  the  wilderness,"  said  Bootefish,  waving  his 
prayer-book  solemnly  to  and  fro  —  a  home  in  the  wilderness, 
where  the  altars  of  the  blessed  mother  church  are  to  be  over 
thrown  before  they  are  set  up.  Alas,  for  this  benighted  land ! 
Listen  to  me,  thou  apostate,  to  me  Robert  Bootefish,  —  for  am  I 
not  a  babe  still  hanging  on  the  refreshing  bosom  of  the  mother 
church?" 


MERRY-MOUNT.  55 


"  Lord  bless  him  !  Thou  canst  see  the  cherub  was  born  for 
hanging,"  interrupted  Cakebread.  "Don't  blush,  Bootefish," 
concluded  he,  with  his  toad-like  eyes  glittering  with  mischief, 
while  the  solemn  Bootefish  grew  purple  with  indignation  at  this 
interference  with  his  exhortations. 

"  Hah,  hah,  hah,"  suddenly  roared  the  sprawling,  long-legged 
Humphrey  Rednape,  who  had  been  silently  imbibing  vast  draughts 
from  the  Merry-Mount  fountain,  and  who  had  been  placidly  con 
templating  the  gambols  of  his  companions,  without  any  active 
participation  therein. — "  Hah,  hah,  hah,"  he  roared  with  ring 
ing,  drunken  laughter  —  "  Bootefish  a  cherub  !  —  a  capital  jest, 
'ifecks  !  —  Bootefish,  a  blessed  cherub  !  Hah,  hah,  hah  !  " 

"  Halloo,  halloo  —  here  is  Rednape  waked  up  at  last,"  piped 
the  shrill  voice  of  Canary  —  "I  thought  he  had  got  a  bottle  of 
Squanto's  fountain,  and  was  dead  to  the  world  for  eight  and 
forty  hours  !  But  here  he  is  alive  and  kicking,  and  laughing  too 
from  ear  to  ear  at  Bootefish's  exhortations." 

"  What  an  extensive  hilarity  must  that  be  !  "  cried  the  re 
instated  Cakebread — "Rednape  laughing  from  ear  to  ear! 
Why,  'tis  a  laugh  forty  miles  broad,  as  the  crow  flies  —  since 
from  Merry-Mount  to  Plymouth ." 

"Hold  thy  peace,  hold  thy  peace !"  cried  the  peace-making 
Bernaby  Doryfall,  stopping  the  mouth  of  the  malicious  Cake- 
bread  ;  while  the  luckless  Rednape,  with  his  merriment  changed 
to  wrath  by  the  jibes  of  his  ceaseless  tormentor,  was  looking 
round  the  table  for  some  suitable  missile  of  revenge  —  "Hold 
thy  foolish  tongue,  Peter  ;  and  thou  Humphrey  Rednape,  stop 
thy  rash  hand.  Here  are  we  all,  forgetting  the  business  in  hand. 
Here,  Faintnot  Mellowes,"  continued  he,  turning  to  the  poor 
weaver,  who  had  kept  his  seat  in  the  chimney  corner,  shrinking 
as  far  as  possible  from  observation,  and  hoping  that  the  attention 
of  his  riotous  companions  would,  by  their  own  bickering,  be 
directed  altogether  from  himself,  at  least  till  the  anxiously  desired 


56  MERRY-MOUNT. 


re-appearance  of  Master  Maudsley  —  "  Here,  Master  Faintnot 
Mellowes,  some  time  weaver,  and  now  an  unworthy  brother  of 
Plymouth,  I  propose,  as  thou  hast  forsworn  connection  with 
New  Canaan,  as  thou  hast  thyself  informed  us,  although  the 
reasons  are  not  yet  communicated,  —  that  thou  be  now  admitted 
a  member  of  the  Merry-Mount  society,  with  the  customary  cere 
monies." 

The  suggestion  of  Bernaby  Doryfall  was  received  with  shouts 
of  applause  by  the  drunken  crew.  The  luckless  Faintnot  was 
dragged  from  the  chimney  corner,  by  the  united  exertions  of 
Rednape,  Bootefish,  and  the  Canary  Bird,  and  elevated,  chair 
and  all,  upon  the  table,  where  he  sat,  presenting,  with  his  peaked 
hat,  draggled  dress,  and  rueful  countenance,  an  extraordinary 
contrast  to  the  wild,  bacchanalian  figures  who  surrounded  him. 
There  he  sat  pilloried  upon  the  centre  of  the  table,  mocked  and 
tormented  by  the  grinning  imps,  who  were  dancing,  whooping, 
and  chattering  in  mad  and  noisy  confusion  about  the  table. 

Suddenly  Bernaby  Doryfall,  with  a  shrill  halloo,  leaped  like  a 
frog  upon  the  table  just  behind  his  chair,  placed  both  hands 
upon  the  victim's  shoulders,  and  vaulted  over  him  in  masterly 
style,  only  upsetting  half  a  score  of  pewter  mugs  and  flagons  as 
he  descended,  and  making  an  infernal  clatter  as  he  reached  the 
ground.  He  was  followed  by  the  temporary  master  of  revels, 
the  wizzened,  little  old  Cakebread,  who  took  the  leap  with  the 
nimbleness  of  an  ape,  mopping  and  mowing  at  the  Puritan  as  he 
flew  over  him,  and  alighting  upon  the  ground  with  a  malicious 
chuckle  of  triumph.  The  sprawling  Rednape  succeeded,  who, 
after  clearing  the  victim's  shoulders  in  rather  a  clumsy  manner, 
floundered  upon  his  nose,  among  the  cups  and  dishes,  nearly 
upset  the  table,  and  then  measured  his  length  upon  the  floor. 
His  cap  and  feather  fell  off  as  he  did  so,  his  long  hair  fell  back, 
and  exposed  the  mutilated  portion  of  his  countenance  to  the  de 
rision  of  his  companions.  The  clumsy  Bootefish  followed,  who 


MERRY-MOUNT.  57 


with  great  difficulty  was  hoisted  upon  the  table  by  the  assistance 
of  his  companions,  and  who,  after  waddling  with  ponderous  but 
uncertain  footing  a  step  or  two  forward,  with  the  air  of  an  in 
toxicated  hippopotamus,  came  to  a  dead  pause,  refused  the  leap, 
closed  his  eyes,  gathered  himself  into  a  ball,  and  dropped  heavily 
upon  the  floor.  The  game  was  kept  up,  however,  with  breath 
less  rapidity  by  the  Canary  Bird,  Peter  Cakebread  and  Rediiape, 
with  one  or  two  other  subordinate  and  anonymous  individuals; 
the  ceremony  being  concluded  by  the  active  Cakebread,  who 
turned  half  a  dozen  cart  wheels  upon  the  table,  and  then  threw 
a  final  somerset  over  Fuintnot's  head,  in  most  brilliant  and  in 
imitable  style. 

The  company  now  refreshed  themselves  with  another  pull  at 
the  Merry-Mount  fountain.  Master  Bootefish  then  stepped  for 
ward  with  bland  dignity,  presented  the  flagon  to  the  poor 
badgered  victim,  and  requested  him  to  drink  it  off  to  the  health 
of  the  Merry-Mount  society.  The  meek  weaver  declined  the 
draught;  whereat  the  chief  butler,  in  great  dudgeon,  drank  off 
the  larger  portion  himself,  and  threw  the  slops  over  the  pris 
oner's  head. 

"  Thou  art  sprinkled  now  from  the  fountain  of  Merry-Mount," 
said  he  solemnly,  "  and  we  propose  that  thou  shouldst  henceforth 
become  a  member  of  this  honorable  society." 

"Alas,  alas  !  "  cried  the  almost  exhausted  and  thoroughly  be 
wildered  Faintnot,  who  really  believed  himself  in  the  power  of 
demons,  and  the  whole  scene  before  him  one  of  witchcraft  and 
delusion  ;  "  alas,  alas !  the  dogs  have  compassed  me  —  the  as 
sembly  of  the  wicked  have  inclosed  me.  Is  there  none  to  help 
me?  No,  not  one." 

"  Did  I  hear  aright?  "  blustered  Bootefish.  "  Dogs  compass 
you,  indeed  !  and  a  wicked  assembly,  too  !  Why,  thou  canting, 
heathen  dog,  dost  dare  to  call  the  worshipful  and  virtuous  society 
of  Merry-Mount  a  wicked  assembly  !  Thou  roystering,  drunken 


58  MERRY-MOUNT. 


knave  thou,  how  shall  such  insolence  be  punished  ?  Humphrey 
Rednape,  Peter  Cakebread,  Bernaby  Doryfall,  —  are  ye  all  an 
assembly  of  the  wicked  ?  What  vengeance  shall  we  inflict  upon 
this  perverse  slanderer  1  " 

Faintnot  looked  wistfully  towards  the  door,  and  with  be 
wilderment  and  fear  at  the  threatening  faces  of  his  tormentors. 

"Alas,  alas ! "  he  again  exclaimed,  "  is  there  none  to  save  me 
from  the  power  of  the  dog  ?  Whither  is  the  kind  young  man 
departed,  and  where  is  he,  who  sat  but  lately  in  authority  over 
ye  ?  Shame  on  ye !  —  shame,  that  ye  should  wear  the  semblance 
of  men,  and  yet  be  as  fiends  and  ravening  wolves  to  destroy  and 
persecute  the  helpless  and  the  unoffending.  Put  me  forth  again, 
I  beseech  ye,  if  ye  indeed  be  men,  and  not  fiends ;  put  me  forth 
again  into  the  tempest  and  the  outer  darkness,  and  the  Lord, 
even  the  God  of  Jacob,  shall  reward  ye." 

"  Put  thee  forth  again  into  this  terrible  storm !  "  piped  the 
Canary  Bird,  "  how  canst  thou  think  it  ?  What  a  blot  upon  the 
hospitable  fame  of  Merry-Mount;  and  sooth  to  say,  thou  judgest 
of  the  free  hearted  revellers  of  Passanogessit  as  of  the  gloomy 
crop-ears  of  New  Canaan.  No,  my  good  fellow,  not  yet  shalt 
thou  be  dismissed  into  the  wailing  and  teeth-gnashing  of  the 
outer  wilderness.  Pledge  us  to  the  prosperity  of  Passanogessit, 
and  to  the  confusion  of  Canaan  !  "  he  concluded,  again  tender 
ing  the  oft-rejected  flagon. 

The  poor  Puritan  reached  the  cup  with  evident  loathing  to 
his  lips,  and  looked  beseechingly,  as  he  exclaimed  in  broken 
accents,  — 

"  Truly,  trouble  is  near  me,  and  there  is  none  to  help.  Many 
bulls  have  compassed  me,  —  strong  bulls  of  Bashan  have  beset 
me  round.  Men,  men,  have  ye  no  pity  —  no  charity  —  no 
bowels  of  compassion  1  Behold,  my  soul  and  body  are  wearied 
with  travel  and  fasting.  Is  there  none  to  save  me  from  the  lion's 
mouth  1  Is  there  no  help  from  the  horns  of  the  unicorns  ?  " 


MERRY-MOUNT.  59 


"Hah,  hah,  hah  !"  shouted  the  baboon-faced  Cakebread.  "Hah, 
hah,  hah  !  Master  Humphrey,  who  would  have  thought  that  the 
sly  dog  of  a  Puritan  psalm-singer  had  been  an  old  acquaintance 
of  thine.  Why,  man,  he  knows  thy  name  as  well  as  the  best  of 
us.  Didst  hear  him  pray  for  deliverance  from  unicorns  ?  Can 
flesh  and  blood  bear  such  gibes  from  a  Puritan  ?  Look  at  him 
well  Humphrey,  my  lad,  dost  recognize  an  acquaintance?  By 
the  lord,  perhaps  't  is  thy  executioner  himself.  To  him,  to  him  ! 
Numps,  my  lad.  Quote  him  text  for  text ;  take  an  ear  for  an 
ear.  Crop  his  ears  Tor  him  on  the  spot,  Numps,  roundly  and 
soundly  —  crop  his  ears  for  him,  Humphrey  Rednape,  and  thou 
shalt  never  be  jeered  again  by  Peter  Cakebread  !  " 

The  long-legged  unicorn  sprang  into  the  air  with  rapture  at 
Cakebread's  suggestion.  His  hatred  of  the  Plymouth  brethren 
was  ancient,  deep-rooted,  savage,  and  not  ungrounded.  He  had, 
as  we  have  stated,  been  dealt  with  by  the  Puritans  after  the  se 
verest  fashion.  For  the  petty  offence  of  reviling  their  magis- 
tiates  and  denying  their  authority,  during  a  temporary  and  vaga 
bond  residence  in  their  neighborhood,  he  had,  according  to  their 
sanguinary  practice,  been  pilloried,  mutilated  and  banished.  He 
had  fled  to  Merry-Mount  for  refuge  ;  where,  during  his  long  as 
sociation  with  vagabonds  of  similar  habits  to  his  own,  he  had 
fed  fat  the  grudge  he  owed  the  Plymouth  people,  and  where 
his  hatred  had  been  burned  indelibly  into  his  soul  by  the 
ceaseless  mockery  of  his  companions.  The  opportunity  for  re 
venge,  for  which  he  had  so  long  panted,  seemed  now  within  his 
grasp.  Determined  to  wipe  out  the  memory  of  his  own  igno 
miny  by  the  heroic  achievement  artfully  suggested  by  Cakebread, 
smarting  under  the  memory  of  his  own  irremediable  wrong,  in 
flamed  by  the  taunting  laugh  of  his  companions,  furiously  drunk, 
and  blindly  following  the  savage  impulse  of  the  moment,  he 
whipped  out  his  sharp  hunting  knife,  sprang  with  a  wild  halloo 
upon  the  table,  and  seized  the  neck  of  the  unoffending,  unre 
sisting  weaver. 


60  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  rest  of  the  drunken  crew  flocked  around,  encouraging 
and  applauding  his  purpose.  The  savage  Rednape,  his  eyes 
half  starting  from  his  head,  his  hands  quivering  with  rage  and 
intoxication,  his  mouth  uttering  ferocious  imprecations,  had  al 
ready  torn  off  the  Puritan's  hat  and  neck-band,  had  seized  him 
by  his  right  ear,  with  his  knife  brandished  above  him,  when  the 
victim,  appalled  by  this  ignominious  cruelty,  uttered  a  yell  of 
horror,  in  so  loud  arid  piercing  a  tone,  that  even  the  executioner 
paused  for  an  instant,  while  at  the  same  moment  the  door  flew 
violently  open,  and  Henry  Maudsley  bounded  into  the  room. 

"  What  means  this  mummery?"  he  cried,  in  loud  and  angry 
tones,  which  rang  through  that  riotous  apartment,  and  infused  a 
thrill  of  hope  into  the  heart  of  the  poor  victim.  Rednape 
paused  a  moment,  holding  his  knife  suspended  in  the  air,  and 
looked  with  an  expression  of  cowardly  ferocity,  worthy  of  a 
vulture,  disturbed  when  feeding  upon  a  carcase,  at  the  angry 
countenance  of  Maudsley. 

"  What  means  this  mummery  ?  "  he  repeated,  looking  fiercely 
at  the  mob  of  rioters.  "  Have  ye  no  shame,  no  manly  blood  in 
your  veins,  that  ye  stand  by,  like  grinning  apes,  while  this 
drunken  ruffian  is  playing  such  pranks  as  these  1  Leave  your 
hold  of  his  neck,  Master  Cut-throat,  and  let  him  descend  from 
the  place  where  you  have  pilloried  him." 

"  Hey-day,  hey-day,  Master  Maudsley!"  exclaimed  the  fero 
cious  Rednape,  retaining  his  position  upon  the  table,  and  his 
hold  upon  his  victim's  neck.  "  Hey-day  !  what  is  this  exhorta 
tion  about?  Who  gave  you  authority  over  me,  or  any  of  us,  I 
should  like  to  be  informed  ?  Death  and  damnation  !  here  goes 
the  psalm-singer's  ear." 

The  victim  struggled  —  the  rioters  cheered  and  yelled.  Red- 
nape  brandished  his  knife,  and  would  assuredly  have  executed 
his  purpose,  when  Maudsley  sprang  upon  him  like  a  tiger,  fas 
tened  his  knuckles  in  his  throat,  and  hurled  him  headlong  and 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


sprawling  upon  the  floor.  Then  turning  to  the  wanderer,  who 
was  half  dead  with  exhaustion,  excitement  and  mortification,  he 
humanely  and  carefully  assisted  him  to  descend  from  the  ground, 
and  led  him  off  through  the  mob  of  rioters  to  the  door.  The 
revellers,  confounded  by  his  rapid  and  imperious  style  of  pro 
ceeding,  ashamed  of  their  excesses,  and  feeling  a  little  tardy 
sympathy  with  the  persecuted  pilgrim,  offered  but  little  resist 
ance. 

Soon  after  Maudsley  had  left  the  room  with  the  weaver,  whom 
he  had  taken  under  his  protection,  the  sovereign  of  Merry-Mount 
entered,  with  marks  of  dissatisfaction  upon  his  countenance. 

"  How  is  this,  my  children,  my  lieges,"  he  cried,  "  how  is  this, 
that  the  back  of  your  suzerain  cannot  for  a  moment  be  turned,  but 
that  his  absence  is  a  signal  for  riot  and  uproar?  I  am  ashamed 
at  your  conduct.  I  have  just  been  succinctly  informed  by  Master 
Maudsley,  —  who  is  worth  a  hundred  of  ye,  '  homo  ad  unguem 
factus' — a  gentleman  and  a  scholar,  who  lias  the  bard  of  Strat 
ford  at  his  tongue's  end,  and  is  as  familiar  with  Flaccus  as  my 
self,  —  I  say,  I  have  just  been  informed  that  outrages  have  been 
attempted  upon  the  person  of  this  poor  wayfarer  which  are 
shocking  to  an  ingenuous  mind.  I  would  blush  for  ye,  but  that 
I  see  Robert  Bootefish  is  blushing  for  the  whole  company.  Re 
tire,  the  whole  of  ye  !  'T  is  long  past  midnight;  the  butt  is  dry, 
the  torches  are  burnt  to  the  sockets,  and  ye  are  all  as  tipsy  as 
wild  boars." 

As  he  concluded  this  oration,  the  despotic  lord  of  Merry- 
Mount  opened  wide  the  door,  and  his  obedient  subjects,  very 
drunk  and  very  much  ashamed,  trooped  forth,  helter-skelter,  into 
the  darkness,  bearing  lighted  torches  in  their  hands,  and  look 
ing,  as  their  wild  figures  broke  vividly  and  fitfully  upon  the 
midnight  gloom,  like  a  horde  of  gnomes  about  to  vanish  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

VOL.  i.  6 


62  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the  darkness  still  continued.  Mor 
ton  watched  at  the  door  till  the  party  had  dispersed  into  the 
various  cabins  which  were  inclosed  within  the  palisade.  He 
then  sallied  forth  personally,  to  examine  the  security  of  his  outer 
defences,  and  having  completed  his  rounds,  returned  into  his 
house. 

In  the  mean  time,  Maudsley,  who  had  taken  the  poor  weaver 
in  charge,  had  conducted  him  to  his  own  cottage,  where  he  had 
spread  before  him  a  supper  of  dried  venison  and  Indian  bread, 
and  had  then  insisted  upon  his  reposing  his  weary  limbs  upon 
his  own  couch,  which,  notwithstanding  the  protestations  of  the 
humble  Faintnot,  he  resolutely  resigned  to  him. 

The  weary  wanderer  was  soon  enjoying  the  slumber  which  he 
so  much  needed,  while  Maudsley,  lost  in  thought,  remained 
gazing  out  upon  the  starless  night.  Feeling  a  little  chilled  as 
he  stood  by  the  open  door,  he  turned  and  took  up  the  cloak, 
which  he  had  so  good-naturedly  thrown  about  the  wanderer, 
upon  his  first  appearance  at  the  banqueting  hall  of  the  palace. 
As  he  he  lifted  the  garment  from  the  heap  of  tattered  raiment, 
which  the  wearer  had  cast  from  him  upon  retiring  to  rest,  a 
sealed  letter  fell  upon  the  ground.  He  mechanically  took  it  up, 
and  looked  at  the  superscription.  The  packet  was  addressed, 
"  To  the  honored  hands  of  Esther  Ludlow. These  with  dis 
patch."  He  gazed  at  the  writing,  till  the  waning  light  of  the 
torch  expired,  and  left  him  in  darkness. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  63 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    BAFFLED    KNIGHT. 

WHEN  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  lifted  the  prostrate  form  of 
Esther  Ludlow  from  the  ground,  and  bore  her  to  the  house,  he 
was  not  aware  to  whose  prompt  assistance  the  preservation  of 
the  maiden  was  owing.  lie  had  from  a  distance  observed  the 
danger  to  which  she  was  exposed,  but  having  unluckily  no  fire 
arm,  he  was  unable  to  rescue  her  immediately,  and  was  rushing 
down  the  slope  tp  attack  her  enemy  with  his  dagger,  when 
Maudsley's  bullet  laid  the  ferocious  animal  lifeless  at  Esther's 
feet.  Annoyed  at  being  thus  prevented  from  rendering  a  signal 
service  to  the  fair  Puritan,  he  did  not  pause  to  investigate  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  but  while  Maudsley  was  struggling 
through  the  swamp,  which  intervened  between  Esther's  position 
and  the  point  from  which  he  had  fired,  and  while  his  form  was 
still  concealed  by  the  bushes,  the  knight  had  rapidly  raised  the 
fainting  girl  in  his  arms,  and  borne  her  to  her  home. 

When  Maudsley  arrived,  he  was  somewhat  surprised  to  find 
the  unknown  damsel,  whom  he  had  rescued,  thus  spirited  away, 
and  his  first  impulse  was  to  search  for  her.  He  observed, 
however,  but  very  indistinctly,  the  figure  of  a  man  in  puritanic 
habiliments,  disappearing  through  the  pine  forest,  and  he  then 
remembered,  that  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  spot,  which  he 
had  never  before  visited,  was  the  residence  of  several  religious 
settlers.  The  society  of  such  people  was  not  congenial  to  him. 
The  only  Puritan  for  whom,  in  the  whole  breadth  of  New  Eng 
land,  he  had  the  faintest  sensation  of  sympathy,  the  Puritan  who 
seemed  to  hold  the  thread  of  his  fate  in  her  hands,  although 


64  MERRY-MOUNT. 


she  had,  in  his  estimation,  slighted  and  scorned  him  —  that  Puri 
tan  was,  as  he  believed,  many  miles  away  in  the  settlement  of 
New  Plymouth.  He  had  been  but  a  short  time  in  New  Eng 
land,  and  he  had  not  yet  chosen  to  visit  the  Ludlows  in  their 
retreat.  It  was  partly  shame  at  being  obliged  to  acknowledge 
the  weakness  of  his  heart,  partly  doubt,  whether  his  presence 
might  be  pleasing  or  not,  and  partly  a  lingering  feeling  of 
resentment,  which  had  restrained  him  from  flying  across  the 
narrow  strip  of  wilderness,  which  as  he  deemed  still  separated 
them,  even  as  he  had  already  traversed  the  stormy  and  wintry 
Atlantic. 

Supposing  the  Ludlows  some  sixty  miles  distant,  he,  of 
course,  could  hardly  associate  the  idea  of  his  Esther  with  the 
damsel  whom,  concealed  by  bushes  and  dimmed  by  distance,  he 
had  seen  encountering  the  wolf,  and  when  he  arrived  at  the 
spot,  and  found  that  she  had  been  carried  away  in  safety  by  a 
man  of  her  own  faith,  her  father,  husband,  brother,  lover,  he 
cared  not  which,  he  was  on  the  whole  rather  gratified  than 
otherwise.  He  thought,  to  be  sure,  that  it  would  have  been 
rather  more  courteous,  had  the  Puritan  gentleman  stayed  till  his 
arrival,  but  he  reflected  that  their  rapid  retreat  had  probably 
saved  him  from  listening  to  a  thanksgiving,  concluding  with  an 
exhortation,  which  would  have  been  too  long  for  his  patience, 
and  he  felt  grateful  for  their  departure.  As  we  have  seen,  he 
mused  a  little  on  the  circumstances,  and  then  dismissing  the 
whole  matter  from  his  thoughts,  he  went  his  way. 

In  the  mean  time  Gardiner  had  borne  Esther  Ludlow  to  her 
house,  where  he  found  her  brother.  HeTwas  somewhat  alarmed 
at  the  situation  of  his  sister,  but  the  explanation  of  Gardiner 
satisfied  him,  that  there  was  no  danger  to  be  apprehended,  and  the 
exertions  of  a  faithful  waiting  woman,  whom  Esther  had  brought 
with  her  from  England,  having  very  soon  restored  her  exhausted 
senses,  he  pressed  Gardiner  to  remain  at  his  house  for  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  65 


present.  He  had  occasionally  seen  the  knight  at  Plymouth, 
where  he  was  regarded  as  a  man  weary  of  the  world,  a  man  who 
had  led  a  life  perhaps  of  adventure  and  of  passion,  but  whose 
spirit  was  now  changed,  and  who  had  as  it  were  taken  the  cowl, 
and  gone  into  the  wilderness  as  into  a  convent,  where  he  might 
atone,  during  the  rest  of  his  days,  for  the  follies  of  his  worldly 
career. 

"  And  it  is  to  your  prompt  assistance  then,"  said  Esther,  who 
was  now  perfectly  restored,  and  who  felt  almost  ashamed  of 
having  had  the  weakness  to  faint — "it  is  to  your  assistance 
that  I  am  indebted  for  deliverance,"  said  she,  suppressing  a 
slight  shudder,  and  addressing  herself  to  Gardiner. 

"Alas!  no,"  he  replied;  "  I  was  about  to  render  you  assist 
ance,  which  would  have  been  a  very  easy  as  well  as  a  most 
welcome  task,  but  even  as  I  was  hastening  towards  you,  an 
unknown  hand  from  a  distant  thicket,  Roger  Conant's,  perhaps, 
or  that  of  some  other  of  your  neighbors,  anticipated  my  inten 
tion  and  destroyed  your  enemy.  No  great  achievement  to  be 
sure,  for  the  wolf  is  a  cowardly  cur,  and  would  certainly  not 
have  waited  for  my  arrival,  before  taking  himself  to  flight,  even 
if  this  unknown  champion  had  been  absent." 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Esther,  "  that  the  man  to  whose  prompt 
assistance  I  am  so  much  indebted,  should  not  at  least  present 
himself  at  our  cottage.  Was  Roger  Conant  at  his  own  hut, 
Walter,"  she  inquired,  turning  to  Ludlow. 

"No,  he  had  been  absent  since  daybreak  —  and  there  was 
none  about  his  household  who  knew  whither  —  I  think  it  likely 
that  it  was  he  who  assisted  you,  and  I  hope  I  shall  soon  have 
an  opportunity,  if  it  be  so,  to  offer  him  my  warmest  thanks." 

"  If  it  be  Conant,"  said  Esther,  "•  you  may  be  sure  that  he 
will  absent  himself,  to  avoid  our  thanks.  Such  an  every-day 
matter  as  destroying  a  wolf,  he  will  hardly  deem  a  matter  of 
triumph." 


66  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  He  were  a  more  savage  brute  himself,"  exclaimed  Gardiner 
with  enthusiasm,  and  looking  with  flashing  eyes  at  Esther,  "  he 
were  worse  than  a  wolf  himself,  did  he  not  triumph  in  being  the 
chosen  instrument  to  rescue  so  precious  and  cherished  a  life 
from  the  threatening  danger  —  I  would  it  had  been  my  lot 
instead  of  his.  But  Providence  decreed  otherwise,"  he  con 
cluded,  slightly  elevating  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  fearing  that  his 
manner  might  have  expressed  more  warmth  than  would  be 
acceptable. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,"  said  Esther,  "  and  I  cer 
tainly  do  not  forget,  that  your  arm  was  ready  and  willing  to 
preserve  me,  even  if  no  other  assistance  had  been  near." 

"  Have  you  received  news  from  England  1 "  asked  Gardiner, 
turning  abruptly  to  Ludlow. 

"  I  am  expecting  dispatches  by  the  way  of  Plymouth,"  was 
the  reply.  "There  has  been  an  arrival  in  that  harbor,  and  one, 
too,  by  which  important  news  have  come  to  hand.  My  own 
letters,  which  would  have  been  addressed  to  me  at  Plymouth,  are, 
I  trust,  already  on  their  way  across  the  intervening  wilderness, 
but  I  am  not  yet  in  possession  of  them." 

"  You  are  not  yet  aware  of  any  details,"  said  Gardiner,  "  but 
I  think  I  understand  you  to  state,  that  you  have  learned  already 
something  of  importance." 

"  Truly,"  said  Ludlow,  "  of  much  interest  to  me,  and  to  you 
likewise." 

"  Appertaining  to  affairs  at  home,  or  regarding  our  own 
matters  here  in  the  wilderness  ? "  asked  Gardiner. 

"  They  regard  ourselves,  our  own  colony  and  prospects,"  said 
Ludlow. 

"And  our  oppressed  religion  no  doubt?"  added  Gardiner, 
"  but  I  am  anxious  to  know  something  more  —  I  too  am  entirely 
without  advices,  and  pray  you  to  impart  to  me  whatever  you 
have  learned." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  (57 


"  Briefly  then,"  said  Ludlovv,  "  I  am  informed  that  a  new, 
serious  effort  is  making  to  colonize  these  parts,  by  people  of  a 
wholly  different  stamp  from  those  who  have  hitherto  attempted 
the  enterprise." 

"  Differing  from  our  brethren  of  New  Plymouth,  I  apprehend 
you  to  mean,"  said  Gardiner. 

"  Truly,"  said  Ludlow,  "  I  did  not  so  intend,  although,  to  be 
sure,  the  new  colonists  are  different  in  many  of  their  principles 
from  the  brethren  of  New  Plymouth.  As  I  understand,  they' 
are  such  who  retain  still  a  deep  and  yearning  affection  for  our 
holy  mother  church,  and  who  would  see  her  reclaimed  from 
her  errors,  and  purified  of  her  Popish  gewgaws.  Like  my  sister 
arid  yourself  and  me,  they  would  still  remain  in  communion  and 
sweet  fellowship  with  their  ancient  mother,  and  not  like  the 
Separatists  of  Plymouth,  tear  themselves  too  rudely  from  her 
arms,  and  fiercely  refuse  holy  intercourse  with  her." 

"  In  short,"  said  Esther,  who  felt  a  deeper  and  livelier  inter 
est  than  her  brother  in  these  matters,  "  in  short,  the  new  comers 
are  said  to  be  rather  Puritans  than  Separatists.  They  are  non 
conformists,  who  seek  to  establish  a  purified  church  on  this  side 
the  ocean.  Separated  by  the  mighty  Atlantic,  from  the  land  of 
their  fathers,  they  would  not  separate  in  heart  and  spirit  from 
the  church  of  their  affection  —  but  only  wipe  away  the  stain  of 
its  errors  from  their  own  garments." 

"  They  are  then  Puritans,  these  new  comers?  "  said  Gardiner, 
with  apparent  calmness,  but  with  a  savage  scowl  for  an  instant 
darkening  his  forehead. 

"  They  are  so,"  said  Esther,  answering  his  question,  and  not 
observing  the  expression  of  his  face.  "  But  my  brother  meant, 
when  he  called  them  men  of  a  different  stamp  from  the  former 
settlers  in  this  wilderness,  that  they  differed  widely  from  the  idle 
and  dissolute,  who  have  sought  these  shores,  not  for  conscience 
sake,  but  in  the  sordid  hope  of  gain  and  worldly  advantage." 


68  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Let  us  not  speak  of  them,"  said  Gardiner,  "  but  of  the  new 
comers.  You  say  they  are  Puritans  and  not  Separatists  — 
can  you  tell  me  by  what  right  they  come  "into  this  neighbor 
hood?" 

"  We  have  not  yet,  as  my  brother  has  mentioned,  learned  the 
details,  but  we  hear  that  a  company  of  pious  and  energetic 
people  has  been  formed,  numbering  among  them  many  men  of 
station  arid  fortune,  and  that  this  company  has  obtained  from 
the  council  of  New  England,  a  grant  of  the  whole  territory  of 
Massachusetts  Bay." 

"  Aha,"  muttered  Gardiner  to  himself,  grinding  his  teeth 
savagely,  and  looking  black  as  a  demon,  upon  the  madonna  face 
of  the  beautiful  Puritan,  to  whom  he  was  listening.  "  Aha, 
then  Sir  Ferdinando  has  been  baffled  indeed.  And  pray  can 
you  inform  me,"  added  he  aloud,  and  in  the  blandest  tones, 
"can  you  inform  me  whether  such  a  grant  has  actually  been 
obtained,  and  the  patent  already  executed  1 " 

"  Such  is  the  story,"  answered  Esther.  "  But  if  your  own 
letters  do  not  reach  you  sooner,  I  trust  we  shall  soon  be  able  to 
give  you  more  ample  information,  when  our  messenger  from 
New  Plymouth  shall  have  arrived." 

"  'Tis  very  strange,"  muttered  the  knight  to  himself,  "  that  I 
am  left  thus  in  the  dark.  Either  Blaxton  must  have  dispatches 
for  me,  or  they  have  miscarried  altogether.  Sir  Ferdinando 
could  never  have  intended  that  I  should  be  thus  groping  in  igno 
rance  of  such  important  matters.  I  crave  your  pardon,  lady," 
said  he  aloud,  "  for  having  given  you  so  much  trouble  by  my 
earnest  desire  for  information.  An  exile,  you  know,  as  well  as 
any  other,  thirsts  for  knowledge  of  affairs  at  home.  I  thank 
you  for  your  kindness,  and  with  your  permission  will  now  wish 
you  good  morrow."  So  saying,  Sir  Christopher  courteously 
saluted  Ludlow  and  his  sister,  passed  rapidly  across  the  glade, 
and  disappeared  in  the  forest. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  69 


"The  knight  seems  troubled  and  disconcerted,"  said  Ludlovv 
to  his  sister,  after  their  guest  had  departed. 

"  He  seemed  perplexed  and  strangely  affected,"  answered 
Esther,  "  at  the  information  which  we  have  received  from 
England  —  why  his  anxiety  should  be  thus  excited,  I  hardly 
know.  'Tis  a  strange,  moody  man,  whose  mind  seems  to 
me  as  impenetrable  as  his  visage.  I  know  not  why,  but  he 
inspires  me  with  any  thing  but  confidence." 

"  Nay,  you  judge  him  harshly,"  said  Walter  Ludlow ;  "Gar 
diner  is,  like  myself,  perhaps,  a  broken-spirited  man,  melan 
choly  and  solitary,  but  not  therefore  to  be  distrusted." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  make  further  record  of  the  Ludlows' 
conversation,  as  we  have  at  this  time  more  to  do  with  the  knight 
who  had  left  the  cottage. 


70  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

BIOGRAPHICAL    AND    HISTORICAL. 

IT  was  very  natural  that  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  should  have 
been  exceedingly  perplexed  at  the  information  which  he  had  re 
ceived,  in  such  a  fragmentary  manner,  from  the  Ludlows.  He 
had  received  nothing  by  the  recent  arrival  from  England,  and 
according  to  the  tenor  of  his  former  letters,  affairs  had  been  in 
a  very  hopeful  train  for  the  advancement  of  his  own  plans. 

Just  previously  to  Gardiner's  arrival  in  New  England,  Sir 
Ferdinando  had  meditated  a  great  change  in  his  schemes.  His 
fertile  imagination  suggested  to  him,  that  one  great  obstacle  to 
his  success,  lay  in  the  New  England  Council  —  of  which, 
although  he  was  one  of  its  most  influential  members,  he  was, 
after  all,  only  a  fraction,  and  consequently  often  hampered  in 
his  plans  by  want  of  sympathy,  or  by  direct  opposition  on  the 
part  of  his  associates.  Another  difficulty  with  which  he  had  to 
contend,  lay  in  the  instruments  with  which  he  had  been  obliged 
to  work.  He  had  been  disappointed  that  he  had  been  unable  to 
inspire  his  son  with  any  of  his  enthusiasm.  The  pictures  which 
he  painted  to  him  did  not  dazzle  him  at  all.  But,  while  Sir 
Ferdinando  was  casting  anxiously  about  him,  and  regretting  that 
the  character  of  his  son  altogether  unfitted  him  from  taking  any 
part  in  his  design,  it  so  happened  that  circumstances  took  him 
to  the  continent,  and  he  chanced  one  day  to  meet  Sir  Christo 
pher  Gardiner  at  Madrid.  Circumstances  which  we  have  not 
yet  time  to  explain,  and  an  intimate  connection  with  the  Gorges 
family,  which  will  probably  develop  itself  more  fully  as  this  his 
tory  proceeds,  had  made  the  elder  and  younger  knights  familiar 


MERRY-MOUNT.  71 


with  each  other.    Gardiner  had  then  but  recently  appeared,  after 
nearly  twenty  years'  absence  in  foreign  climes,  during  which  he 
had   been   disinherited.      Strange  adventures,  in  which  he   had 
been  an  actor,  had  from  time  to  time  been  whispered  in  Eng 
land,      lie  had  been  a  pilgrim  to  the  Holy  Land  —  he  had  been 
in   many  battles,  by  sea   and   land,  and  in  the  service  of  many 
states.       He    had    dwelt   long    in   Venice,    that    marble    portal 
through  which  so  long  had  flowed  the  commerce  of  the  world, 
and  dwelt  there  in  some  important,  but  mysterious  capacity.     It 
was  certain  that  he  had  been  engaged   in  the  celebrated  mock 
conspiracy  of  the  Duke  d'Ossuna  against  the  Republic,  in  which 
the  subordinates  all  lost  their  lives,  while  he  preserved  not  only 
his  head,  but  increased   both   his  credit  and  his  fortune.     Dis 
guised  as  a  barefooted  friar,  he   had   repeatedly  passed  between 
Naples   and  Venice,  without    even    exciting  a    suspicion  ;«•;  and 
throughout   the  whole  drama,  even  to  the  explosion  of  the  con 
spiracy,  he  had  been  the  right  hand  and  most  trusty  agent  of  the 
Duke,  in  all  his  daring,  subtle,  but  unsuccessful   schemes.     At 
this  juncture   he   had  suddenly  disappeared,  as  if  the  earth  had 
swallowed  him.     And  after  men  had  done  speculating,  whether 
he  had  been  sunk  in  the  lagoons,  or  whether  his  friend,  the  Vice 
roy  of  the  Sicilies,  had  popped   him  into  the  crater  of  Etna,  to 
prevent   any  inconvenient   blabbing,   he   had   suddenly,  after   a 
long  interval,  re-appeared   in  England,  which  he  had  left  a  boy, 
and  where  no  man  knew  his  face.    Some  said  he  had  not  always 
borne  the  name  he  bore.     Some  whispered  that  there  were  po 
tent  reasons  for   disguise.     That  he  had  commanded  a  band  of 
Uscoques,   or  Dalmatian   pirates,  was  believed  by  some  ;  while 
others  were  perfectly  certain   that  he  had  distinguished  himself 
in  a  memorable  action,  in  which  the  gallies   of  the  Knights  of 
St.  John  had  utterly  routed  and  destroyed  these  scourges  of  the 
Adriatic.     lie  was  indeed  generally  believed   to   have   been  a 
Knight  of  Malta ;  and   if  so,  he  was  probably  not  an   Uscoque. 


72  MERRY-MOUNT. 


At  the  same  time,  it  was  currently  reported  that  he  had  married 
an  English  woman  of  rank  and  fortune  in  Rome,  and  repudiated 
her  soon  afterward  for  a  Cardinal's  hat,  with  the  Pope's  triple 
crown  in  perspective.  Missing  the  election  to  St.  Peter's  chair 
by  a  single  vote,  they  said  he  had  thrown  down  his  hat  in  a  rage, 
and  had  suddenly  bolted  to  the  East.  Here  he  was  known  to 
have  resided  a  long  time,  and  was  suspected  by  many  wiseacres 
of  having  adopted  the  koran  and  the  turban,  and  to  have  been 
rewarded  with  the  pachalic  over  a  dozen  different  provinces, 
whence  he  was  only  removed  to  occupy  the  station  of  grand 
vizier.  Hence  he  was  again  driven,  by  a  wild  passion  which 
the  chief  sultana  conceived  for  him.  Reciprocating  the  senti 
ment,  but  averse  to  the  bowstring,  he  had  made  his  escape  with 
the  assistance  of  the  chief  eunuch ;  and  while  the  unfortunate 
Fatima  was  sinking  to  the  bottom  of  the  Bosphorus,  he  was 
heartlessly  skimming  across  its  surface  in  the  swiftest  of  feluccas. 
The  thread  of  his  adventures  was  snapped  again  at  this  moment; 
but  the  wiseacres,  tracking  him  like  bloodhounds,  came  up  some 
how  or  other  with  him  in  Spain,  where  he  had  gone  to  visit  his 
friend,  the  Duke  d'Ossuna,  who  had  returned  to  his  country  and 
made  his  peace  at  court.  Thence,  people  said  he  had  been 
startled  by  the  unlooked  for  appearance  of  his  wife,  who,  after 
dodging  him  through  all  his  windings,  from  Venice  through  the 
Cardinal's  college  to  the  Levant,  and  so  across  the  Mediterra 
nean  to  Spain,  had  suddenly  confronted  him  in  the  Escurial. 
Giving  her  the  slip,  he  appeared  to  have  found  the  seven-leagued 
boots,  and  to  have  dashed  off  again  to  the  world's  end.  The 
wiseacres  were  once  more  baffled. 

A  little  only  of  the  nonsense  which  had  been  talked  about  him, 
may  indicate  the  estimation  in  which  he  had  at  one  time  been 
held,  and  even  shadow  forth  the  probable  character  of  the  man 
about  whom  so  much  mysterious  folly  had  been  .engendered. 
And  yet  there  were  undoubtedly  a  good  many  truths  mixed  with 


MERRY-MOUNT.  73 


the  absurd  gossip  which  was  so  greedily  swallowed*  This  his 
tory  may  probably  eliminate  the  real  from  the  fanciful ;  —  but 
at  present  \ve  are  only  concerned  to  account  for  his  intimacy 
with  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges.  That  doughty  old  knight,  and 
most  brilliant  of  schemers,  almost  fainted  upon  Gardiner's  neck 
when  he  discovered  him.  He  hr.d  known  him  long  and  well  ; 
and  without  stating  at  present  the  precise  relation  in  which  they 
stood,  let  it  suffice,  that  never  were  two  persons  better  adapted 
to  be  useful  and  serviceable  to  each  other.  Gardiner  was  very 
ready  to  recommence  his  adventures  on  a  new  scene.  His  bat 
tered  fortunes,  he  thought,  would  be  admirably  recruited  by  the 
creation  of  a  magnificent  county  palatine  in  the  El  Dorado;  and 
his  jaded  imagination,  palled  by  his  varied  and  chequered  ad 
ventures  in  the  moss-grown  world,  where  he  had  run  his  race, 
plumed  her  wings,  and  soared  high  again  as  the  visions  of  a 
new  empire  in  a  virgin  world  flashed  across  him  for  the  first 
time. 

As  for  Sir  Ferdinando,  he  probably  knew  how  much  to  be 
lieve  of  the  various  adventures  reported  —  not  by  Sir  Christopher 
himself,  however,  for  lie  was  silent  and  impenetrable  —  of  that 
adventurous  personage.  lie  cared  not  whether  he  was  monk  or 
martyr,  Turk  or  Christian,  Knight  of  Malta  or  Dalmatian  pirate, 
cardinal,  pope,  or  vizier.  He  knew  his  character  thoroughly  ;  — 
knew  that  no  better  man  could  possibly  be  found  in  the  breadth 
of  England  for  his  purposes.  Trained  from  boyhood  to  the  use 
of  every  weapon,  insensible  to  fatigue,  calm  in  danger,  subtle 
in  scheming,  prompt  in  action,  commanding  in  person,  and 
above  all,  untroubled  with  that  inconvenient  companion,  a  con 
science,  Sir  Christopher  seemed  to  have  been  expressly  com 
pounded  for  his  great  designs. 

Gardiner's  patience  had  however  been  severely  tried.  To  a 
man  of  his  impetuous  nature,  the  languor  which  seemed  to 
characterize  all  the  proceedings  of  his  English  confederates 

VOL.  i.  7 


74  MERRY-MOUNT. 


caused  much  annoyance,  and  the  inactivity  to  which  it 
doomed  him  became  inexpressibly  galling.  Saving  the  society 
of  Jaspar,  and  the  occasional  companionship  of  the  suzerain  of 
Merry-Mount,  to  which  potentate  he  imparted  just  as  much,  or 
as  little  as  he  chose,  of  his  own  thoughts,  his  life  was  passed 
either  in  solitude  or  in  masquerade. 

Qardiner,  however,  possessed  a  deep  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  and  reading  Morton's  character  at  a  glance,  he  saw  how 
much  assistance  might  be  derived  from  his  various  qualities  and 
accomplishments,  although  his  flippancy  and  recklessness  caused 
him  great  uneasiness.  In  his  intercourse  with  the  brethren 
at  Plymouth,  whom  he  visited  in  the  demure  character  of  a 
spiritually-minded  and  contrite  man,  he  had  found  how  much 
irritation  existed  in  the  minds  of  those  holy  men  at  the  madcap 
freaks  of  Morton  and  his  ragamuffin  subjects. 

The  news  which  Gardiner  had  just  gathered  was  very  per 
plexing.  The  vessel  which  brought  the  intelligence  seemed  to 
have  arrived  at  Plymouth  directly  after  his  last  visit  to  that  place, 
and  he  how  found  that  by  hurrying  away  lie  had  only  gained  an 
increase  of  anxiety.  As  the  Ludlows  informed  him  that  a  new 
company  of  Puritans  had  obtained  a  patent  from  the  New  Eng 
land  Council,  it  seemed  pretty  certain  that  Sir  Ferdiriando's 
efforts  had  been  foiled,  and  that  the  contemplated  dissolution 
of  the  New  England  Council  and  division  of  its  territory  was 
as  far  off  as  ever.  This  new  movement  disconcerted  all  his 
schemes.  His  plan,  which  to  a  sanguine  and  scheming  nature 
like  his,  seemed  not  impracticable,  of  transferring  the  Plymouth 
company  to  Shawmut,  to  hold  their  territory  —  although  that, 
of  course,  was  to  be  kept  a  secret  from  them  at  present  — 
under  a  grant  from  himself,  when  he  should  have  become  lord 
proprietor  of  the  whole  province;  and  of  occupying  all  the 
important  points  upon  the  coast  with  colonists  upon  whom  he 
could  rely,  required  a  considerable  reinforcement  in  men, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  75 


money,  and  every  kind  of  material  from  England.  Concerning 
this  matter  he  had  repeatedly  written  to  Sir  Ferdinando,  and 
he  was  anxiously  expecting  the  arrival,  during  the  summer,  of  at 
least  a  thousand  picked  men  —  fellows  who  had  served  abroad, 
and  had  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of  adventure  —  who  were  to 
be  occupied  in  building  fortifications  at  first,  and  afterwards  in 
agriculture,  fishing,  and  Indian  trading. 

Gardiner  was  at  a  loss  how  to  act  at  present.  Sir  Ferdinando 
must  have  written  to  him,  but  his  letters  might  be  still  at  Ply 
mouth  ;  or  they  might  have  been  intrusted  to  some  messenger  ; 
or  they  might  have  been  inclosed,  as  for  particular  reasons  had 
sometimes  been  done,  under  cover  to  William  Blaxton,  the  Soli 
tary  of  Shawmut. 

While  the  knight  was  ruminating  upon  these  matters,  the  day 
was  fast  declining.  At  the  moment  when  he  had  parted  from 
the  Ludlows,  he  had  intended  to  proceed  immediately  to  his 
boat,  which  he  had  moored  in  a  little  cove  about  a  mile  from 
their  residence.  Lost  in  meditation,  however,  he  had  loitered 
in  the  forest  longer  than  he  had  intended,  and  he  was  aroused  at 
last  upon  perceiving  the  almost  level  beams  of  the  sun  piercing 
through  the  mighty  pines  around.  Finding,  moreover,  that  his 
thoughts  were  occasionally  wandering  from  the  grave  matters 
which  immediately  engaged  his  attention,  to  the  marble  brow 
and  chiselled  features  of  the  beautiful  Esther,  he  checked  the 
vagrant  current  of  his  reflections,  and  hurried  with  a  rapid  and 
impatient  step  to  the  shore.  He  found  his  faithful  Indian  at 
tendant  seated  in  the  boat,  and  wondering  what  had  become  of 
his  master.  Sketwarroes  was  an  invaluable  acquisition,  which 
Gardiner  had  made  in  England.  He  had  been  one  of  a  number 
of  savages  kidnapped  in  the  south-eastern  region  of  New  Eng 
land,  by  the  infamous  captain  Hunt,  and  by  him  sold  into  slavery. 
He  had  been,  however,  rescued,  brought  to  England,  and  pro 
tected  by  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges,  in  whose  service  he  had 


76  MERRY-MOUNT. 


remained  several  years;  so  that  the  English  language  being 
familiar  to  him,  his  services  as  an  interpreter  were  very  valuable 
to  Gardiner,  to  whom  his  friend  Sir  Ferdinando  had  intrusted 
him. 

The  sun  went  down,  as  the  little  boat,  spreading  her  light  sail 
to  a  faint  easterly  breeze,  slowly  cleft  her  way  across  the  purple 
waves.  It  was  already  dusk  when  the  first  great  headland  which 
interposes  itself  between  Naumkeak  and  the  outer  promontory 
of  Massachusetts  Bay  was  rounded,  and  within  an  hour  after 
ward  it  fell  a  flat  calm,  before  a  quarter  of  the  little  voyage  had 
been  completed. 

After  watching  the  stars  till  past  midnight,  and  waiting  in  vain 
for  the  faintest  breath  of  wind  from  any  quarter  of  the  horizon, 
Gardiner  abandoned  the  helm  to  Sketwarroes,  wrapped  himself 
in  his  cloak,  and  stretched  himself  calmly  to  sleep  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  77 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE    SOLITARY    OF    SIIAWMUT. 

UPON  the  afternoon  of  that  same  clay,  a  single  figure  sat  upon 
the  highest  peak  of  the  triple-headed  promontory  of  Shawmut. 
Around  him  was  spread  the  lovely  panorama,  which  still,  but 
with  diminished  beauty,  surrounds  the  picturesque  city  of 
Boston. 

A  solitary  figure  sat  upon  the  summit  of  Shawmut.  lie  was 
a  man  of  about  thirty  years  of  age,  somewhat  above  the  middle 
height,  slender  in  form,  with  a  pale,  thoughtful  face.  lie  wore 
a  confused,  dark-colored,  half  canonical  dress,  with  a  grey 
broad-leaved  hat  strung  with  shells,  like  an  ancient  palmer's, 
and  slouched  back  from  his  pensive  brow,  around  which  his 
prematurely  grey  hair  fell  in  heavy  curls,  far  down  upon  his 
neck.  He  had  a  wallet  at  his  side,  a  hammer  in  his  girdle,  and 
a  long  staff  in  his  hand.  The  hermit  of  Shawmut  looked  out 
upon  a  scene  of  winning  beauty.  The  promontory  resembled 
rather  two  islands  than  a  peninsula,  although  it  was  anchored  to 
the  continent  by  a  long  slender  thread  of  land,  which  seemed 
hardly  to  restrain  it  from  floating  out  to  join  its  sister  islands, 
which  were  thickly  strewn  about  the  bay.  The  peak  upon 
which  the  hermit  sat,  was  the  highest  of  the  three  cliffs  of  the 
peninsula  ;  upon  the  south-east,  and  very  near  him,  rose  another 
hill  of  lesser  height  and  more  rounded  form,  and  upon  the  other 
side,  and  towards  the  north,  a  third  craggy  peak  presented  its 
bold  and  elevated  front  to  the  ocean.  Thus  the  whole  peninsula 
was  made  up  of  three  lofty  crags.  It  was  from  this  triple  con 
formation  of  the  promontory  of  Shawmut,  that  was  derived  the 


78  MERRY-MOUNT. 


appellation  of  Trimountain,  or  Tremont,  which  it  soon  after 
wards  received. 

The  vast  conical  shadows  were  projected  eastwardly,  as  the 
hermit,  with  his  back  to  the  declining  sun,  looked  out  upon  the 
sea. 

The  bay  was  spread  out  at  his  feet  in  a  broad  semicircle, 
with  its  extreme  headlands  vanishing  in  the  hazy  distance,  while 
beyond  rolled  the  vast  expanse  of  ocean,  with  no  spot  of  habita 
ble  earth  beyond  those  outermost  barriers,  and  that  far  distant 
fatherland,  which  the  exile  had  left  forever.  Not  a  solitary  sail 
whitened  those  purple  waves,  and  saving  the  wing  of  the  sea 
gull,  which  now  and  then  flashed  in  the  sunshine,  or  gleamed 
across  the  dimness  of  the  eastern  horizon,  the  solitude  was  at 
the  moment  unbroken  by  a  single  movement  of  animated  nature. 
An  intense  and  breathless  silence  enwrapped  the  scene  with  a 
vast  and  mystic  veil.  The  bay  presented  a  spectacle  of  great 
beauty.  It  was  not  that  the  outlines  of  the  coast  around  it  were 
broken  into  those  jagged  and  cloud-like  masses,  that  picturesque 
and  startling  scenery  where  precipitous  crag,  infinite  abyss,  and 
roaring  surge  unite  to  awaken  stern  and  sublime  emotions;  on 
the  contrary,  the  gentle  loveliness  of  this  transatlantic  scene 
inspired  a  soothing  melancholy,  more  congenial  to  the  contem 
plative  character  of  its  solitary  occupant.  The  bay  secluded 
within  its  forest-crowned  hills,  decorated  with  its  necklace  of 
emerald  islands,  with  its  dark  blue  waters  gilded  with  the  rays  of 
the  western  sun,  and  its  shadowy  forests  of  unknown  antiquity, 
/expanding  into  infinite  depths  around,  was  an  image  of  fresh 
/  and  virgin  beauty,  a  fitting  type  of  a  new  world,  unadorned  by 
art,  unploughed  by  industry,  unscathed  by  war,  wearing  none  of 
the  thousand  priceless  jewels  of  civilization,  and  unpolluted  by 
its  thousand  crimes  —  springing,  as  it  were,  from  the  bosom  of 
the  ocean,  cool,  dripping,  sparkling,  and  fresh  from  the  hand  of 
its  Creator. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  79 


On  the  left,  as  the  pilgrim  sat  with  his  face  to  the  east,  the 
outlines  of  the  coast  were  comparatively  low,  but  broken  into 
gentle  and  pleasing  forms.  Immediately  at  his  feet  lay  a  larger 
island,  in  extent  nearly  equal  to  the  peninsula  of  Shawmut, 
covered  with  mighty  forest  trees,  and,  at  that  day,  untenanted 
by  a  human  being  —  although  but  a  short  time  afterwards  it 
became  the  residence  of  a  distinguished  pioneer.  Outside  this 
bulwark,  a  chain  of  thickly  wooded  islets,  stretched  across 
from  shore  to  shore,  with  but  one  or  two  narrow  channels 
between,  presenting  a  picturesque  and  effectual  barrier  to  the 
boisterous  storms  of  ocean.  They  seemed  like  naiads,  those 
islets  lifting  above  the  billows  their  gentle  heads,  crowned  with 
the  budding  garlands  of  the  spring,  and  circling  hand  in  hand, 
like  protective  deities  about  the  scene. 

On  the  south,  beyond  the  narrow  tongue  of  land,  which 
bound  the  peninsula  to  the  main,  and  which  was  so  slender 
that  the  spray  from  the  eastern  side  was  often  dashed  across  it 
into  the  calmer  cove  of  the  west,  rose  in  the  immediate  dis 
tance,  that  long  boldly  broken,  purple-colored  ridge,  called 
the  Massachusetts,  or  Mount  Arrow  Head,  by  the  natives,  and 
by  the  first  English  discoverer  baptized  the  Cheviot  Hills.*  On 
their  left,  and  within  the  deep  curve  of  the  coast,  were  the 
slightly  elevated  heights  of  Passanogessit  or  Merry-Mount,  and 
on  their  right  stretched  the  broad  forest,  hill  beyond  hill,  away. 
Towards  the  west  and  north-west,  the  eye  wandered  over  a  vast 
undulating  panorama  of  gently  rolling  heights,  upon  whose 
summits  the  gigantic  pine  forests,  with  their  towering  tops 
piercing  the  clouds,  were  darkly  shadowed  upon  the  western 
sky,  while  in  the  dim  distance,  far  above,  and  beyond  the  whole, 
visible  only  through  a  cloudless  atmosphere,  rose  the  airy  sum 
mits  of  the  Wachusett,  Watatick,  and  Monadnock  Mountains. 


See  Note  III. 


§0  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Upon  the  inland  side,  at  the  base  of  the  hill,  the  Quinobequin 
River,  which  Smith  had  already  christened  with  the  royal  name 
of  his  unhappy  patron,  Charles,  might  be  seen  writhing  in  its 
slow  and  tortuous  course,  like  a  wounded  serpent,  till  it  lost 
itself  in  the  blue  and  beautiful  cove  which  spread  around  the 
whole  western  edge  of  the  peninsula,  and  within  the  same 
basin,  directly  opposite  the  northern  peak  of  Shawmut,  advanced 
the  bold  and  craggy  promontory  of  Mishawum,  where  Walford, 
the  solitary  smith,  had  built  his  thatched  and  palisaded  house. 
The  blue  thread  of  the  River  Mystic,  which  here  mingled  its 
waters  with  the  Charles,  gleamed  for  a  moment  beyond  the 
heights  of  Mishawum,  and  then  vanished  into  the  frowning  forest. 
Such  was  the  scene,  upon  a  bright  afternoon  of  spring,  ^hich 
spread  before  the  eyes  of  the  solitary  William  Blaxton,  the 
hermit  of  Shawmut.  It  was  a  simple  but  sublime  image,  that 
gentle  exile  in  his  sylvan  solitude.  It  was  a  simple  but  sublime 
thought  which  placed  him  and  sustained  him  in  his  lone  retreat. 
In  all  ages,  there  seem  to  exist  men  who  have  no  appointed 
place  in  the  world.  They  are  before  their  age  in  their  aspira 
tions,  above  it  in  their  contemplation,  but  behind  it  in  their 
capacity  for  action.  Keen  to  detect  the  follies  and  the  incon 
sistencies  which  surround  them,  shrinking  from  the  contact  and 
the  friction  of  the  rough  and  boisterous  world  without,  and 
building  within  the  solitude  of  their  meditations  the  airy  fabric 
of  a  regenerated  and  purified  existence,  they  pass  their  nights  in 
unproductive  study,  and  their  days  in  dreams.  With  intelli 
gence  bright  and  copious  enough  to  illuminate  and  to  warm  the 
chill  atmosphere  of  the  surrounding  world,  if  the  scattered  rays 
were  concentrated,  but  with  an  inability  or  disinclination  to 
impress  themselves  upon  other  minds,  they  pass  their  lives 
without  obtaining  a  result,  and  their  characters  dwarfed  by  their 
distance  from  the  actual  universe,  acquire  an  apparent  indistinct 
ness  and  feebleness,  which  in  reality  does  not  belong  to  them. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  gj 


The  impending  revolution  in  church  and  state,  which  hung 
like  a  gathering  thundercloud  above  England's  devoted  head, 
was  exciting  to  the  stronger  spirits,  whether  of  mischief  or  of 
virtue,  who  rejoiced  to  mingle  in  the  elemental  war,  and  to 
plunge  into  the  rolling  surge  of  the  world's  events,  while  to  the 
timid,  the  hesitating,  and  the  languid,  it  rose  like  a  dark  and 
threatening  phantom,  scaring  them  into  solitude,  or  urging  them 
to  seek  repose  and  safety  in  obscurity.  Thus  there  may  be 
men  whose  spirits  are  in  advance  of  their  age,  while  still  the 
current  of  the  world  flows  rapidly  past  them. 

Of  such  men,  and  of  such  instincts,  was  the  solitary  who  sat 
on  the  cliffs  of  Shawmut.  Forswearing  the  country  of  his  birth 
and  early  manhood,  where  there  seemed  in  the  present  state  of 
her  affairs  no  possibility  that  minds  like  his  could  develop  or 
sustain  themselves  —  dropping  as  it  were,  like  a  premature  and 
unripened  fruit,  from  the  bough  where  its  blossoms  had  first  un 
folded —  he  had  wandered  into  voluntary  exile,  with  hardly  a 
regret.  Debarred  from  ministering  at  the  altar  to  which  he  had 
consecrated  his  youth,  because  unable  to  comply  with  mummery 
at  which  his  soul  revolted,  he  had  become  a  high-priest  of 
nature,  and  had  reared  a  pure  and  solitary  altar  in  the  wilder 
ness.  He  had  dwelt  in  this  solitude  for  three  or  four  years,  and 
had  found  in  the  contemplation  of  nature,  in  the  liberty  of  con 
science,  in  solitary  study  and  self-communing,  a  solace  for  the 
ills  he  had  suffered,  and  a  recompense  for  the  world  he  had 
turned  his  back  upon  forever. 

His  spirit  was  a  prophetic  spirit,  and  his  virtues  belonged  not 
to  his  times.  In  an  age  which  regarded  toleration  as  a  crime, 
he  had  the  courage  to  cultivate  it  as  a  virtue.  In  an  age  in 
which  liberty  of  conscience  was  considered  fearful  licentious 
ness,  he  left  his  fatherland  to  obtain  it,  and  was  as  ready  to 
rebuke  the  intolerant  tyranny  of  the  nonconformist  of  the  wil 
derness,  as  he  had  been  to  resist  the  bigotry  and  persecution  of 


82  MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  prelacy  at  home.  In  short,  the  soul  of  the  gentle  hermit  flew 
upon  pure  white  wings  before  its  age,  but  it  flew,  like  the  dove, 
to  the  wilderness.  Wanting  both  power  and  inclination  to  act 
upon  others,  he  became,  not  a  reformer,  but  a  recluse.  Having 
enjoyed  and  improved  a  classical  education  at  the  university  of 
\J  Cambridge,  he  was  a  thorough  and  an  elegant  scholar.  He  was 
likewise  a  profound  observer,  and  a  student  of  nature  in  all  her 
external  manifestations,  and  loved  to  theorize  and  to  dream  in 
the  various  walks  of  science.  The  botanical  and  mineralogical 
wonders  of  the  new  world  were  to  him  the  objects  of  unceasing 
speculation,  and  he  loved  to  proceed  from  the  known  to  the  un 
known,  and  to  weave  fine  chains  of  thought,  which  to  his  soaring 
f  fancy  served  to  bind  the  actual  to  the  unseen  and  the  spiritual, 
Jte/2  and  upon  which,  as  upon  the  celestial  ladder  in  the  patriarch's 
vision,  he  could  dream  that  the  angels  of  the  Lord  were  de 
scending  to  earth  from  heaven. 

The  day  was  fast  declining,  as  the  solitary  still  sat  upon  the 
peak  and  mused.  He  arose  as  the  sun  was  sinking  below  the 
forest-crowned  hills  which  girt  his  sylvan  hermitage,  and  gazed 
steadfastly  towards  the  west. 

"Another  day,"  he  said,  "hath  shone  upon  my  lonely  path, 
another  day  hath  joined  the  buried  ages  which  have  folded  their 
wings  beneath  yon  glowing  west,  leaving  in  their  noiseless  flight 
across  this  virgin  world  no  trace  nor  relic  of  their  passage. 
}T  is  strange  —  't  is  fearful  —  this  eternal  and  unbroken  silence. 
Upon  what  fitful  and  checkered  scenes  hath  yonder  sun  looked 
down  in  other  lands,  even  in  the  course  of  this  single  day's 
career.  Events,  as  thickly  studded  as  the  stars  of  heaven,  have 
clustered  and  shone  forth  beneath  his  rays,  even  as  his  glowing 
chariot-wheels  performed  their  daily  course;  and  here,  in  this 
mysterious  and  speechless  world,  as  if  a  spell  of  enchant 
ment  lay  upon  it,  the  silence  is  unbroken,  the  whole  face  of 
nature  still  dewy  and  fresh.  The  step  of  civilization  hath  not 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


83 


adorned  nor  polluted  the  surface  of  this  wilderness.  No  stately 
temples  gleam  in  yonder  valleys,  no  storied  monument  nor  aspir 
ing  shaft  pierce  yonder  floating  clouds  —  no  mighty  cities, 
swarming  with  life,  filled  to  bursting  with  the  ten  thousand  at 
tendants  of  civilized  humanity,  luxury  and  want,  pampered  sloth, 
struggling  industry,  disease,  crime,  riot,  pestilence,  death — all 
hotly  pent  within  their  narrow  precincts  —  encumber  yon  sweep 
ing  plains  ;  no  peaceful  villages,  clinging  to  ancient,  ivy-mantled 
churches  —  no  teeming  fields,  spreading  their  vast  and  nourish 
ing  bosoms  to  the  toiling  thousands,  —  meet  this  wandering 
gaze.  No  cheerful  chime  of  vesper  bell,  no  peaceful  low  of  the 
returning  kine,  no  watch-dog's  bark,  no  merry  shout  of  chil 
dren's  innocent  voices,  no  floating  music  from  the  shepherd's 
pipe,  no  old  familiar  sounds  of  humanity,  break  on  this  listening 
ear.  No  snowy  sail  shines  on  yon  eternal  ocean,  its  blue  ex 
panse  unruilled  and  unmarred  as  the  azure  heaven  ;  and  ah  — 
no  crimson  banners  float  the  sky,  and  no  embattled  hosts  shake 
with  their  martial  tread  this  silent  earth.  'T  is  silence  and  mys 
tery  all.  Shall  it  be  ever  thus?  Shall  this  green  and  beautiful 
world,  which  so  long  hath  slept  invisibly  at  the  side  of  its  ancient 
sister,  still  wear  its  virgin  wreath  unsoiled  by  passion  and  pol 
lution  ?  Shall  this  new,  vast  page  in  the  broad  history  of  man, 
remain  unsullied,  or  shall  it  soon  flutter  in  the  storm-winds  of 
fate,  and  be  stamped  with  the  same  iron  record,  the  same  dreary 
catalogue  of  misery  and  crime,  which  fills  the  chronicle  of  the 
elder  world  ?  'T  is  passing  strange,  this  sudden  apocalypse  ! 
Lo  is  it  not  as  if  the  universe,  the  narrow  universe  which 
bounded  men's  thoughts  in  ages  past,  had  swung  open,  as  if  by 
an  almighty  fiat,  and  spread  wide  its  eastern  and  western  wings 
at  once,  to  shelter  the  myriads  of  the  human  race?  " 

The  hermit  arose,  slowly  collected  a  few  simples  which  he  had 
culled  from  the  wilderness,  a  few  roots  of  early  spring  flowers 
which  he  destined  for  his  garden,  and  stored  them  in  his  wallet, 


84  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  then  grasping  his  long  staff,  began  slowly  to  descend  the 
hill. 

As  the  slender  form  of  the  exile,  with  his  sad-colored  garb 
and  pilgrim's  scrip  and  staff,  stood  out  in  dark  relief  against  the 
western  sky,  the  only  human  figure  in  that  solitude,  he  seemed 
almost  a  creation  of  the  fancy,  a  pathetic  but  sublime  image, 
contrasting  and  yet  harmonizing  in  a  wild  and  mystic  sense  with 
the  wilderness  scene  around.  He  slowly  descended  the  steep 
south-western  declivity  of  the  hill  where  he  had  so  long  been 
musing,  and  which,  broken  with  crags,  and  here  and  there 
thickly  overgrown  with  large  trees,  whose  ponderous  branches 
stretched  across  his  path,  presented  a  rough  and  uncertain  foot 
ing  to  the  wanderer.  After  a  few  minutes'  walk,  he  reached  a 
wide  and  open  glade,  which  was  spread  out  at  the  base  of  the 
hill  and  along  the  secluded  basin  which  received  the  waters  of 
the  Charles.  The  undulating  surface  of  this  grassy  expanse 
was  studded  with  many  detached  and  magnificent  forest  trees, 
principally  white  oaks,  hickory,  and  elms,  and  presented  the 
appearance  of  a  natural  park  of  some  fifty  acres,  fringed  towards 
the  water  with  a  thick  growth  of  maples,  alders,  and  birches. 
At  the  base  of  the  hill  which  rose  abruptly  to  the  north  and 
east,  facing  southwardly  upon  the  open  park,  and  having  the 
broad  and  beautiful  cove  upon  its  right,  stood  the  cottage  of 
Blaxton. 

It  was  a  startling  and  impressive  picture  of  cultivation  and 
refinement  that  little  cottage,  embowered  in  freshly  budding 
vines,  surrounded  by  a  garden  laid  out  with  artistic  elegance, 
and  backed  by  a  young  and  thrifty  orchard.  It  was  an  English 
homestead,  starting  as  if  by  magic  out  of  the  bosom  of  that 
vast  wilderness,  and  stirring  the  deepest  fountains  of  feeling 
with  its  placid  beauty.  It  was  the  first  gladdening  footsteps  of 
culture;  it  was  as  if  Minerva,  mother  of  all  humanizing  arts, 
had  according  to  the  ancient  fable,  just  stamped  her  foot  upon 


MERRY-MOUNT.  85 


the  virgin  soil  and  the  olive  of  civilization  had  leaped  forth  to 
greet  her  coming. 

The  house  was  built  in  those  picturesque  forms  which  were 
then  so  common  in  England.  It  was  low-browed,  irregular, 
rambling,  with  sharp-pointed  gables,  a  red-tiled  roof,  small 
lattice  windows  with  diamond  panes,  and  a  porch  covered  thickly 
with  woodbines.  The  materials  of  which  it  had  been  con 
structed  had  been  brought  from  England,  and  it  resembled  in 
its  general  character  a  miniature  parsonage.  The  early  swallows 
built  their  nests  under  its  eaves,  and  the  ancient  crows  with 
sable  stole  and  solemn  note  circled  about  the  surrounding  pines, 
or  rested  in  dark  clusters  upon  their  umbrageous  tops.  The 
young  orchard  had  but  just  come  into  bearing,  indicating  the 
length  of  time  during  which  the  exile  had  made  his  abode  here, 
and  the  spring  being  earlier  than  common  in  that  region,  the 
pink  flakes  of  the  peach  blossoms  were  strewn  already  upon  the 
ground,  while  from  the  young  and  blushing  buds  upon  the  apple 
boughs  a  faint  fragrance  diffused  itself  upon  the  evening  breeze. 
Between  the  cottage  and  the  water's  edge  stood  a  single  pine  of 
enormous  height,  the  growth  of  centuries,  its  massive  but  taper 
ing  trunk,  rising  like  a  colossal  shaft  to  a  dizzy  height,  bare  of 
branches  till  near  the  summit,  and  then  throwing  out  those  wild, 
wizard  boughs,  crowned  with  eternal  verdure,  and  murmuring 
unceasing  music,  which  make  this  tree  so  picturesque  and  re 
markable.  In  the  fork  of  one  of  these  arms  was  the  larjre  and 

a 

rudely  raftered  nest  of  an  osprey  or  fish-hawk,  who  haunted  the 
same  spot  year  after  year,  unscared  by  the  gentle  hermit  who 
had  made  him  one  of  his  most  cherished  companions.  The 
precinct  around  the  house,  garden,  and  orchard  was  separated 
from  the  water  and  the  great  park  in  front,  by  a  wild  and  impen 
etrable  fence  of  upturned  roots,  the  skeleton  remains  of  the 
forest  giants  which  had  been  felled,  or  had  fallen  in  natural 
decay,  and  was  thus  protected  from  the  wolves  and  other  enemies 

VOL.  I.  8 


86  MERRY-MOUNT. 


by  a  natural  and  very  effective  barrier.  Upon  the  western  confine 
of  this  inclosure,*  and  very  near  the  pebbly  margin  of  the  shore, 
a  pure  and  sparkling  fountain,  the  silver  spring  from  which  the 
whole  promontory  of  Shawrnut  derived  its  name,  welled  forth 
from  the  deep  black  mould,  amid  a  thicket  of  shrubs  and  inter 
lacing  vines,  and  was  overshadowed  by  a  rustic  arbor,  which 
the  graceful  care  of  Blaxton  had  raised  as  a  temple  to  the 
water  nymph  whom  he  looked  upon  as  the  presiding  deity  of  his 
rural  domain. 

Blaxton  passed  through  the  entrance  to  his  hermitage,  lin 
gered  a  moment  in  his  garden,  and  entered  the  house. 

A  cheerful  fire  of  hickory  logs  looked  invitingly  to  him  as  he 
came  in  from  the  chill  atmosphere.  The  room  in  which  he  sat 
was  his  innermost  sanctuary.  He  had  brought  with  him  what  in 
those  days  was  no  contemptible  library,  and  the  tall  dark  folios, 
some  two  hundred  in  number,  were  ranged  in  a  dark,  antique, 
bookcase  against  the  walls  of  the  silent  apartment.  A  large 
table,  encumbered  with  books  and  manuscripts,  stood  in  a 
corner,  and  an  ample  cabinet,  stored  with  a  considerable  number 
of  specimens  of  natural  history,  occupied  a  whole  side  of  the 
room. 

"  Welcome,  friends  of  my  solitude,"  he  exclaimed,  as  his  eye 
looked  complacently  upon  his  dumb  but  eloquent  companions. 
"  Welcome,  ye  sages  of  the  olden  time ;  welcome,  ye  bards  whose 
strains,  enshrined  in  the  eternal  crystal  of  a  buried  language, 
are  ever  redolent  of  youth  and  joy,  breathing  as  freshly  here 
upon  this  silent  wilderness  as  once,  attuned  to  classic  lyres  and 
gushing  from  the  reedy  voices  of  garlanded  youths  or  dancing 
nymphs,  amid  shouts  of  martial  triumph  or  bacchanalian  rap 
ture,  they  did  thousands  of  years  ago.  Waked  by  the  music  of 
your  immortal  strains,  these  savage  and  solitary  realms  become 

*  See  Note  IV. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  87 


instinct  with  fabulous  life.  A  gentle  nymph  rises  from  yonder 
fountain,  and  pours  the  sparkling  water  from  her  silver  urn. 
Forth  from  the  dim  recesses  of  yon  ancient  wood,  behold  the 
graceful  fawns  trooping  in  mystic  dances,  beating  the  earth  to 
the  wild  harmony  of  their  clashing  cymbals.  In  every  tangled 
thicket  lurk  the  leaping  satyrs,  through  all  the  forest  floats  the 
rustic  music  of  the  hairy  Pan,  from  every  ancient  oak  or  drooping 
elm  starts  forth  a  green-robed  Dryad.  What  is  it  to  me,  that 
the  solitude  is  unbroken  by  the  voice  of  man  ?  Led  by  your 
hand,  am  I  not  surrounded  and  entranced  by  visions  of  a  long 
vanished  world  ?  And  you,  ye  stern,  rude  chroniclers  of  later 
and  darker  ages,  ye  dark-cowled,  cloistered  monks,  holding 
aloft,  above  the  wild  and  barbarous  deluge,  ingulphing  the 
world  around  you,  the  sacred  torch  of  reason  and  of  science, — 
do  ye  not  read  to  me  a  lesson  of  undying  wisdom  ?  As  I  shudder 
at  the  dark  tale  of  rapine,  and  the  ceaseless  conflict  between 
brother  men,  the  eternal  and  almost  hopeless  striving  of  the 
good,  the  unholy  triumph  of  the  evil  spirits  of  our  race,  am  I 
not  taught  to  seek  in  solitude  and  self-communion  for  the  solace 

O 

which  the  world  denies.  And  most  of  all,  to  thee,  holy  and 
blessed  talisman,  which  alone  art  powerful  to  guide  my  tottering 
steps  ;  to  thee,  ever-gushing  fountain  of  divine  revelation  ;  to 
thee,  comforter  in  sorrow,  guide  in  danger,  all-sufficient  com 
panion  in  the  solitary  valley  of  dark  shadows,  to  thee  do  I  look 
for  support  and  consolation  ;  and  most  of  all  do  I  bless  his  holy 
name  that  hath  vouchsafed  to  me  this  treasure.  The  Lord  is  my 
shepherd.  I  shall  not  want." 

The  yellow  light  of  the  fire  fell  fitfully  upon  the  meek  head  of 
the  recluse,  as  he  sat  upon  his  antique  chair,  bending  over  his 
clasped  and  illuminated  bible.  Late  he  sat  within  that  secluded 
cell,  immersed  in  sacred  study,  or  indulging  ever  and  anon  in 
profound  and  enraptured  reverie.  The  long,  distorted  shadows, 
projected  by  the  various  objects  in  the  apartment,  wavered  upon 


88  MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  walls  and  ceiling,  while  the  deep-toned,  monotonous  ticking 
of  an  ancient  clock  which  stood  by  the  door,  seemed  to  moralize 
with  its  iron  tongue  upon  the  steady  but  unheeded  flight  of  time. 
The  fire  burned  low,  the  wind  of  night  sighed  gently  through 
the  pine  tops,  and  there  was  a  faintly  audible  whisper,  as  the 
thin  skeleton  arms  of  the  drooping  elms  which  hung  around 
the  house,  swept  mournfully  across  the  roof. 

Blaxton  shut  the  book  and  gazed,  lost  in  meditation,  upon  the 
smouldering  firebrands.  In  the  oppressive  silence  of  that  mid 
night  solitude,  the  slightest  sounds  of  nature  seemed  to  acquire 
a  vague  importance.  The  dropping  of  a  brand  upon  the  hearth, 
the  low  hissing  of  the  sap  in  the  green  logs,  or  the  sigh  of  the 
breeze  around  the  lattice,  which  sounded  like  an  articulate,  dis 
embodied  voice,  would  ever  and  anon  cause  the  solitary  to  start 
and  listen  as  if  unseen  spirits  were  holding  communion  with 
him.  Injhat  age  of  superstition,  when  a  belief  in  supernatural 
visitation  was  universal,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  a  man  of 
imaginative  mind  and  nervous  temperament  like  Blaxton,  leading 
such  a  life  of  seclusion  and  study,  being  himself,  as  it  were,  an 
unreal  and  almost  impossible  phantom  in  the  wild  scene  through 
which  he  seemed  rather  to  flit  like  an  apparition  than  to  inhabit 
it  like  an  earthly  resident,  should  be  free  from  the  prevailing 
conviction  of  his  times.  Suddenly,  as  he  mused  by  his  fireside, 
there  seemed  to  be  a  faint,  inexplicable  sound,  as  if  a  finger 
were  drawn  across  the  window-pane.  His  heart  stood  stock 
still,  and  for  an  instant  he  dared  not  raise  his  eyes  towards  the 
casement.  He  aroused  himself,  however,  in  a  moment,  and, 
without  moving  from  his  seat,  strained  his  eyes  upon  the  glass 
from  whence  the  sound  seemed  to  have  proceeded.  There  was 
nothing  there,  save  the  wandering  spray  of  a  woodbine,  moved 
by  the  wind  and  flickering  in  the  sickly  light  of  the  late  risen 
moon.  It  must  have  been  his  imagination.  He  composed  him 
self  again,  and  forcibly  directed  his  thoughts  to  other  matters, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  89 


Yet  the  sound  had  been  distinct,  though  gentle,  and  seemed  not 
to  have  been  produced  by  the  swaying  of  the  delicate  vine. 
Presently  the  sound  was  repeated,  and  this  time  more  audibly 
than  before.  He  could  not  be  mistaken,  the  glass  of  his  case 
ment  was  swept  gently  by  human  fingers.  It  was  a  low,  strange 
sound,  or  something  resembling  rather  the  phantom  of  a 
sound,  which  jarred  upon  his  nerves,  and  sent  a  shiver  through 
his  frame.  It  was  as  if  spectral  fingers  were  beckoning  him  to 
the  window  to  look  out  perhaps  upon  some  nameless  horror 
which  should  freeze  his  blood.  His  heart,  which  had  stood 
still  before,  now  beat  audibly  in  his  bosom.  He  could  hear  its 
pulsations  as  distinctly  as  he  could  the  slow  tick  of  the  clock 
which  had  been  sounding  monotonously  on,  and  which  now  by  its 
deep-throated,  premonitory  gurgle,  seemed  about  to  strike  the 
hour  of  midnight.  Again  the  sweeping  spirit  fingers  stole  along 
the  glass.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  gazed  hurriedly  at  the  window, 
and  then  stood  as  if  changed  to  stone.  A  face  of  ashy  pale 
ness  was  gazing  at  him  from  without.  He  could  see  its  features 
distinctly,  and  recognised  them  but  too  well,  The  phantom  of 
one,  too  dearly  loved,  too  early  lost,  was  gazing  upon  him.  The 
countenance  wore  a  sad  and  warning  expression,  and  the  large, 
mournful  eyes  spoke  of  guilt  and  late  remorse.  Two  white 
hands  clung  to  the  lattice  and  seemed  to  implore  his  forgiveness 
and  pity  with  their  mute  supplication.  It  was  a  fearful  thing 
for  the  solitary,  thus  at  deep  midnight,  in  the  midst  of  that 
boundless  desert,  with  his  mind  already  filled  with  mystic  fan 
cies,  engendered  by  his  late  reading  and  his  prolonged  reveries, 
to  be  confronted  with  what  he  could  not  but  deem  a  visitant 
from  the  world  of  spirits.  There  is  nothing  more  startling  in 
the  midnight  solitude,  than  even  the  fancied  apparition  of  a  face 
looking  in  through  our  window  from  the  external  gloom,  and  to 
this  lonely  man  there  seemed  not  a  doubt  that  this  was  an  appa 
rition. 


90  MERRY-MOUNT. 


He  stood  as  if  transfixed.  He  essayed  to  speak,  but  his 
tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  He  strove  to  move,  to 
shake  off,  if  he  could,  what  perhaps  was  an  incubus,  a  creation 
of  a  disordered  fancy.  His  limbs  refused  to  obey  his  will,  his 
knees  shook,  but  would  neither  advance  or  recede.  How  long 
he  stood  gazing  at  the  phantom  he  could  not  tell,  but  after  a 
time  it  seemed  to  clasp  its  hands  above  its  head,  and  then  to 
melt  away  into  the  darkness.  What  meant  this  visitation  ?  Did 
it  bid  him  forth,  for  some  mysterious  reason,  into  the  midnight 
wilderness  ?  He  breathed  more  freely  now  that  those  sorrowful 
eyes  were  no  longer  gazing  upon  him ;  his  blood,  which  had 
been  chilled  in  its  current,  now  throbbed  freely  from  his  heart, 
his  limbs  regained  their  elasticity,  his  soul  resumed  its  mastery. 

Impelled  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  he  sprang  towards  the 
door,  breathing  a  fervent  prayer  for  protection  as  he  went.  He 
passed  rapidly  through  the  little  porch,  emerged  from  its  shadow 
into  the  moonlight,  and  then  gazed  hurriedly  around.  The 
sickly  rays  of  the  waning  moon  shed  a  mystic  light  upon  the 
scene.  An  unaccountable  and  oppressive  influence  seemed  to 
pervade  the  air.  A  sensation  of  being  the  victim  of  unseen 
mockery  stole  over  him.  The  weird  fantastic  shapes  of  the 
vast  roots,  which  inclosed  his  domain,  looked,  in  the  shifting 
and  uncertain  light,  like  a  troop  of  squat  and  jeering  demons. 
The  owl  shrieked,  the  boding  whippoorwill  uttered  her  ceaseless 
plaint,  and  the  shrill,  piercing  cry  of  the  tree  toad  struck 
upon  his  ear  like  -the  yell  of  a  fiend.  He  strained  his  eyes  in 
every  direction,  but  nothing  met  his  gaze  that  seemed  to  have 
connection  or  sympathy  with  his  late  mysterious  visitant.  The 
moonlight  lay  in  faint  patches  among  the  shadows  of  the  trees, 
but  no  semblance  of  humanity  seemed  to  be  stirring  throughout 
the  breathless  solitude.  After  remaining  in  the  cold  night  air 
for  a  few  moments,  he  was  turning  back  to  his  cottage,  feeling 
more  and  more  convinced  that  he  had  been  the  prey  of  some 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


wild  delusion,  when  suddenly,  far  down  in  the  dim  distance, 
just  on  the  edge  of  the  alder  thicket,  and  not  far  from  the 
margin  of  the  bay,  he  beheld  the  dim  outline  of  a  human  figure, 
wildly  extending  its  arms  for  an  instant,  and  then  hurriedly 
clasping  its  hands  above  its  head,  as  it  glanced  swiftly  as  a  flash 
through  the  moonlight,  and  then  faded  away  into  the  dark 
shadow  of  the  forest.  For  a  moment,  the  hermit,  who  was 
excited,  but  less  perturbed,  by  this  second  apparition,  was 
inclined  to  follow  the  phantom  into  the  morass,  where  it  had 
seemed  to  melt  away.  He  restrained  himself,  however,  and 
stood  still  upon  the  spot,  gazing  steadfastly  upon  the  dark  and 
tangled  thicket  where  the  mysterious  figure  had  disappeared. 
But  there  was  no  farther  indication  of  its  presence.  After 
remaining  till  he  was  chilled  with  the  bleak  night  air,  and 
exhausted  with  excitement,  he  became  convinced  that,  whatever 
it  might  betoken,  the  phantom  had  at  last  vanished.  He  fell 
upon  his  knees  to  offer  a  devout  prayer  for  guidance  and  sup 
port,  and  then,  overcome  by  the  tumultuous  sensations  of  those 
midnight  moments,  he  walked  languidly  into  the  house. 

As  the  door  closed  after  him,  the  faint  plash  of  an  oar  seemed 
to  float,  for   an  instant,  from   the   cove,   and  then   all   was  still 


92  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

SYMPATHY    AND    ANTIPATHY. 

IT  was  natural  that  Esther  should  be  looking  with  as  much 
eagerness,  although  with  widely  different  motives,  for  a  confir 
mation  of  the  intelligence  by  their  own  private  letters,  as  did 
Sir  Christopher  Gardiner.  Truly  it  seemed  a  strange  destiny 
which  had  brought  these  two  powerful  spirits,  so  contrasted,  into 
such  recent  and  accidental  conjunction.  An  imaginative  temper 
might  have  figured  these  two  personages,  thus,  as  it  were,  hov 
ering  about  the  cradte  of  an  infant  state,  the  mysterious  and 
threatening  form  of  the  knight,  the  angelic  figure  of  the  maiden, 
thus  floating  in  strange  proximity,  as  the  embodiments  of  the 
two  great  conflicting  elements  of  our  nature.  Like  a  dark 
•  enchanter  and  a  beneficent  fairy,  like  an  evil  genius  and  a  halo- 
crowned  saint,  these  two  opposite  but  powerful  influences 
seemed  fated  to  some  mystic  conflict  —  who  could  foretell  its 
duration  or  its  result  ? 

As  Esther  looked  forth  from  the  door-step  along  the  glade, 
which  had  so  recently  witnessed  her  conflict  with  the  wolf,  and 
her  rescue  by  some  unknown  but  unforgotten  deliverer,  she  saw 
the  figure  of  a  man  in  Puritan  habiliments,  just  emerging  from 
the  corner  of  the  forest.  She  supposed  at  first  that  it  was  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner  coming  to  renew  his  inquiries,  but  before 
she  had  time  to  call  to  her  brother,  whose  presence  she  desired 
at  all  their  future  interviews,  she  observed  that  she  was  mis 
taken.  The  new  comer,  although  above  the  middle  height,  was 
by  no  means  so  tall  as  Gardiner,  and  moved  with  a  languid  gait, 
very  different  from  the  knight's  lithe  movements.  His  steeple- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  93 


crowned  hat  was  slouched  deeply  upon  his  brows,  so  as  almost 
entirely  to  conceal  his  features  —  his  garments  were  old  and 
travel  stained,  and  he  supported  his  feeble  steps  upon  a  staff. 
He  appeared,  however,  to  be  more  oppressed  with  fatigue  than 
with  age,  and  his  frame,  muscular  and  well  knit,  seemed  to  belie 
his  drooping  deportment. 

He  gravely  saluted  Esther  as  he  approached. 

"Is  this  the  residence  of  Walter  Ludlow  ? "  he  asked  in  a 
husky  voice. 

"  It  is,"  said  Esther  ;   "  have  you  business  with  my  brother?  " 

"  And  you  are  Esther  Ludlow,"  he  continued,  in  a  low  hesi 
tating  tone,  looking  upon  the  ground  as  he  spoke,  and,  as  it 
would  seem,  laboring  under  some  kind  of  embarrassment. 

"I  am  Esther  Ludlow,"  replied  the  maiden,  "  but  you  seem 
fatigued,  good  brother.  By  your  garb  you  should  be  from 
Plymouth  —  and  you  must  have  travelled  far  to-day.  Enter,  I 
pray  you,  into  the  house ;  my  brother  is  now  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  will  insist  that  a  travelling  stranger  like  yourself 
should  partake  his  hospitality." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  good  maiden,  but  my  frame  is,  perhaps, 
not  so  languid  as  it  seems  —  I  have  still  far  to  travel,  and  the 
sun  hath  already  set." 

"The  twilight,"  said  Esther,  '*  will  soon  be  upon  us.  Enter 
our  house  and  refresh  yourself.  It  is  the  hour  of  our  evening 
meal,  and  my  brother  will  soon  be  here." 

The  stranger  seemed  reluctant  to  enter  the  house.  He 
lingered  near  the  door-step,  unwilling  to  accept  Esther's  prof 
fered  hospitality,  and  yet  seeming  slow  to  declare  his  errand- 
He  seemed  oppressed  by  some  secret  emotion. 

"  My  brother  will  deem  himself  ill  treated,  if  you  decline  the 
shelter  of  our  humble  roof  this  night,"  continued  Esther,  "The 
night  is  approaching,  the  air  is  already  growing  keen,  the 
wilderness  is  full  of  danger  to  a  lonely  wayfarer," 


94  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  The  dangers  of  the  wilderness  are  not  those  which  I  most 
fear,"  answered  the  stranger  enigmatically,  and  in  the  same 
husky  tone.  "  But  I  have  forgotten  myself  strangely,"  he  con 
tinued,  as  he  observed  something  like  suspicion  floating  about 
the  clear  brow  of  his  companion.  "  My  business  is  a  brief 
one,  and  concerns  as  much  Esther  Ludlow  as  her  brother.  A 
vessel  has  arrived  at  Plymouth,  and  I  have  been  intrusted  by 
the  man  of  God,  our  worthy  governor  and  brother,  to  deliver  one 
or  two  packets  to  the  scattered  indwell  era  of  the  wilderness. 
Lo!  here  is  that  which  beareth  the  superscription  of  Esther 
Ludlow." 

The  humble  and  toil-worn  stranger  drew  two  parcels  from  his 
bosom,  as  he  spoke,  and  handed  them  respectfully  to  the  maiden. 
Esther  with  eager  thanks  snatched  the  proffered  epistles,  one  of 
which  was  addressed  to  herself,  and  one  to  her  brother,  and 
hastily  breaking  the  seals  of  her  own  dispatch,  she  found,  with 
delight,  that  it  inclosed  four  different  letters.  She  hurriedly 
examined  the  handwriting  of  each?  and  then  laid  them  all  down 
with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"  From  him  alone  not  one  line  of  remembrance,  not  one  word 
of  regret,"  she  murmured. 

The  tears  came  into  the  proud  eyes  of  Esther,  and  with  the 
letters  all  unopened  upon  her  lap,  she  sat  like  a  beautiful  statue, 
all  her  animation  fled,  her  cheek  pale  as  marble,  and  her 
features  working  with  the  expression  of  subdued  but  deep 
emotion.  For  a  moment  she  seemed  totally  unaware  of  the 
presence  of  the  stranger.  The  eagerness  with  which  she  had 
opened  the  dispatch  vanished,  her  anxiety  to  hear  all  the 
details  of  the  great  movement,  in  which  she  felt  so  intense  an 
interest,  had  apparently  subsided  into  indifference,  and,  lost  in 
sorrowful  thought,  she  seemed  heedless  of  all,  save  the  one 
feeling,  which  exclusively  occupied  her  mind. 

While  she  remained  apparently  unconscious  of  all   that  was 


MERRY-MOUNT.  95 


passing  before  her,  the  stranger  stood,  gazing  intently  upon  her, 
from  beneath  the  slouched  hat  which  concealed  his  features. 
His  presence  seemed  to  have  been  wholly  forgotten,  or  she 
might  have  perhaps  felt  some  surprise  that  the  feeble,  toil-worn 
wanderer  should  prefer  to  stand  thus  transfixed  and  motionless 
before  her,  rather  than  seek  repose  and  refreshment  in  the  house. 

She  aroused  herself  at  last  with  an  effort,  mechanically  lifted 
one  of  her  letters,  and  broke  the  seal.  The  trifling  physical 
exertion  seemed  for  a  moment  to  change  the  current  of  her 
thoughts,  and  to  arouse  her  interest  in  the  weighty  matters 
which  had  so  recently  occupied  her  mind.  She  began  to  read 
one  of  the  letters  with  avidity,  when  suddenly  she  remembered 
the  stranger,  and  turned  her  eyes  full  upon  him.  She  blushed, 
she  knew  not  why,  as  she  saw  him  thus  immovably  gazing  upon 
her;  but  as  beseemed  embarrassed  and  unwilling  to  meet  her 
glance,  she  merely  attributed  the  strangeness  of  his  deportment 
to  awkwardness. 

"In  sooth,"  said  she,  "I  have  strangely  forgotten  my  duty. 
You^will  have  but  a  lame  account  to  give  of  the  hospitality  of 
Naurnkeak  when  you  return  to  the  brethren  of  Plymouth.  If 
you  persist  in  refusing  the  shelter  of  our  roof,  at  least  suffer  me 
to  bring  you  some  trifling  refreshment ;  and  I  pray  you  to  repose 
your  wearied  limbs  on  yonder  bench  for  a  little  time  before  you 
proceed  upon  your  journey." 

"  A  crust  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  cold  water,"  continued  the 
stranger  in  the  same  husky  tones  which  had  first  marked  his  voice  ; 
"  a  crust  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  cold  water  is  all  that  I  require, 
and  I  shall  crave  your  pardon  if  I  take  this  refreshment  upon 
the  outside  of  your  domicil.  I  have  yet  far  to  travel  to  night, 
and  I  \vill  repose  for  a  moment  upon  this  bench." 

With  this  the  stranger  seated  himself,  and  Esther  went  for  a 
moment  into  the  house.  She  soon  re-appeared,  bringing  the 
simple  food  which  he  had  desired,  and  placed  it  upon  the  bench 
beside  him. 


96  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"With  your  leave,"  said  she,  "I  will  even  glance  over  the 
contents  of  this  letter,  while  you  are  reposing  and  refreshing 
yourself." 

As  she  spoke,  Esther  again  resumed  the  letter  which  she  had 
opened,  and  became  absorbed  in  the  contents. 

Meanwhile  the  stranger  sat  with  untasted  bread,  hiding  his 
face  with  his  hands,  and  gazing  upon  the  excited  features  of 
the  beautiful  Puritan,  as  if  he  would  have  read  her  soul. 

"  Then  they  have  not  yet  sailed,"  she  murmured  half  audibly, 
as  she  hastily  turned  the  pages  of  her  letters.  "  Endicott  is  to 
set  fortli  in  June,  and  with  him  Gott  and  Brakenbury  and  Dav 
enport,  and  other  good  and  true  men  —  and  much  opposition  is 
expected  from  certain  friends  of  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges  —  the 
knight  arid  his  powerful  party  are  supposed  to  be  moving  heaven 
and  earth  to  prevent  the  king's  grant  of  a  charter  —  he  is  thought 
already  to  have  sent  his  emissaries  to  this  country  —  two  worthy 
and  learned  clergymen,  Master  Higginson  and  Master  Skelton 

have  agreed  to  embark  in  the  ;  Holy  Father  of  Mercy! 

Henry  Maudsley  in  New  England  ! "  The  letter  dropped  from 
her  hands  as  she  uttered  this  exclamation  ;  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  she  murmured,  "  Then  I  did  him  wrong ;  one 
cause  alone  could  bring  Henry  Maudsley  to  New  England." 

"  Aye,  Esther,  but  one  cause,"  said  a  deep,  familiar  voice 
at  her  side. 

Esther  started,  grew  pale  as  ashes,  and  trembled  like  a  leaf. 
She  looked  towards  the  stranger.  He  was  no  longer  reclining 
upon  the  bench,  but  had  advanced  very  near  to  her,  his  tattered 
cloak  was  thrown  aside,  his  hat  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  re 
vealing  the  well-remembered  face  of  Harry  Maudsley. 

"  Aye,  Esther,  but  one  cause,"  he  cried,  while  she  seemed 
contending  with  a  variety  of  emotions,  among  which  pride 
seemed  at  length  to  gain  the  mastery,  suppressing  her  tears, 
smoothing  her  agitated  brow  and  restoring  a  faint  tinge  to  her 


MERRY-MOUNT.  97 


marble  cheek.  "  Forgive  me,"  he  continued  in  an  impassioned 
tone,  "  that  I  have  dared  to  appear  in  this  disguise  before  you. 
It  was  accident  which  prompted  it,  as  it  was  accident  which 
first  revealed  to  me  the  place  of  your  residence,  when  I  deemed 
you  an  inhabitant  of  the  Plymouth  Colony." 

"  And  was  it  accident,  too,"  replied  Esther,  who  had  by  a 
strong  effort  recovered  a  portion  of  her  calmness,  "  and  was  it 
accident  that  brought  Henry  Maudsley  into  these  wild  deserts?" 

"  No,  Esther,"  was  the  reply.  "  Your  own  heart  tells  you 
why  I  am  here.  Yet  believe  me,  that  although  impelled  across 
half  a  world  by  a  passion  which  I  have  struggled  to  conquer, 
till  at  last  it  has  conquered  me,  although  brought  to  your  feet  by 
an  impulse  which  I  could  no  longer  resist,  yet,  believe  me,  I  had 
no  unmanly,  no  unworthy  motives  in  this  disguise." 

"  And  yet,"  answered  Esther,  "  false  robes  should  never  hide 
a  true  heart.  If,  as  I  am  willing  to  believe,  I  was  the  motive  of 
your  exile,  why  steal  thus  masked  into  my  presence,  why  treach 
erously  surprise  my  unguarded  thoughts?  " 

"  Again  I  implore  you  to  forgive  me,  Esther,"  replied  Mauds- 
ley.  "  I  had  been  longer  than  you  think  a  resident  in  this 
neighborhood,  not  dreaming  that  you  were  so  near  rne.  A  poor 
wayfaring  pilgrim,  whom  I  chanced  to  rescue  from  indignity, 
had  been  intrusted  with  letters  addressed  to  you  and  to  others. 
Learning  thus  unexpectedly  the  place  of  your  residence,  I 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  look  once  more  upon  your 
face." 

"  And  yet  it  would  have  been  easy  for  you,"  answered  Esther, 
"  to  have  made  your  appearance  long  ago,  and  without  dis 
guise." 

"Aye,"  answered  Maudsley,  "  and  one  constituted  as  you, 
cannot  perhaps  conceive  of  the  wayward  and  perverse  impulses 
of  a  temperament  like  mine.  Although  I  had  crossed  a  winter's 
sea  in  a  miserable  bark,  only  that  I  might  throw  myself  once 

VOL.  i.  9 


98  MERRY-MOUNT. 


more  at  your  feet,  yet  no  sooner  did  I  find  myself  in  the 
same  wilderness  with  you,  then  I  began  almost  to  shrink  from 
our  interview." 

"  This  is  indeed  strange,"  said  Esther  calmly. 

"  And  it  is  strange,  too,"  continued  Maudsley,  "  that  a  miser 
should  starve  among  uncounted  riches.  Why  did  I  hoard,  like 
a  treasure,  the  golden  moments  of  our  meeting  ?  I  know  not. 
At  last,  influenced  by  a  rebellious  feeling  at  the  power  which  I 
felt  you  exercised  over  my  whole  nature,  and  assisted  by  the 
singular  accident  which  I  have  explained,  I  determined  to  look 
upon  you  once  more,  once  more  to  listen  to  your  voice,  and  then 
to  tear  myself  away  forever." 

"  Maudsley,"  replied  Esther  sorrowfully,  "  your  character 
remains  as  wilful  and  as  enigmatical  as  ever.  Why  then  did 
you  not  execute  your  purpose  1 " 

"  Because,"  was  the  passionate  reply,  "  because  unintention 
ally  I  had  surprised  a  secret  dearer  to  me  than  the  whole  world 
beside.  When  I  found  that  I  had  not  been  entirely  forgotten, 
when  I  heard  your  gentle  voice  breathing  my  name,  when,  as 
you  believed,  there  was  not  an  ear  in  the  whole  wilderness  to 
hear  you,  judge  if  it  were  then  in  my  power  to  tear  myself 
away." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  record  at  length  the  conversation  of  the 
lovers.  It  may  be  believed  that  the  displeasure  of  Esther  at 
Maudsley's  disguise  was  not  very  difficult  to  appease ;  and  it  may 
be  believed,  too,  that  she  was  deeply  affected  by  the  evidence 
which  he  had  given  of  his  constancy  and  his  devotion  to  herself. 
In  this  interview,  the  first  which  had  occurred  between  them  for 
years,  there  were  a  thousand  matters  to  excite  their  interest, 
about  which  Esther,  who  had  now  been  so  long  in  exile,  was  de 
sirous  to  be  informed. 

"  You  have  told  me  nothing  of  yourself,  Henry,"  said  she, 
"  nor  of  your  friends.  You  have  not  told  me  how  the  world 


MERRY-MOUNT.  99 


hath  prospered  with  those  who  are  nearest  and  dearest  to  you  at 
home.  Your  sister,  is  she  still  so  sad  and  broken-spirited,  or 
doth  she  recover  from  the  heavy  blow  ?  " 

"  My  sister  is  dead,"  answered  Maudsley,  mechanically,  but 
in  a  deep  and  gloomy  voice. 

"  Dead  !  is  Edith  dead  ?  so  young  —  so  beautiful  —  so  gentle 
—  so  virtuous.  Has  she  so  soon  gone  down  in  sorrow  to  her 
grave !  Though  I  never  enjoyed  but  a  slight  and  passing  ac 
quaintance  with  her,  yet  I  could  weep  with  you,  Henry,  for  I 
know  how  much  you  were  to  each  other,  and  I  know  how  much 
affection,  and  how  many  pure  womanly  graces  are  buried  in  her 
tomb." 

"  I  do  not  weep  for  her,"  said  her  companion,  in  a  moody  but 
composed  tone.  "  You  see  I  do  not  weep  for  her.  She  has 
been  released  from  a  life  of  suffering;  nay,  more,"  added  Mauds- 
ley,  in  a  hoarser  tone,  "  she  has  been  released  from  a  life  of 
unmerited  but  deep  disgrace.  Virtuous,  high-spirited,  as  she 
was,  it  was  better  that  she  should  sink  at  once  into  her  grave, 
rather  than  creep  through  an  obscure  life,  bowed  to  the  earth 
with  shame  that  was  not  hers,  and  with  tears  of  blood  lamenting 
that  she  had  ever  seen  the  light  of  day." 

"And  her  husband  ?" 

"  Her  husband,"  cried  Maudsley,  grinding  his  teeth  with  a 
passionate  expression,  and  uttering  his  words  slowly,  one  by  one, 
as  if  they  fell  like  drops  of  blood  from  his  heart  —  "  her  husband 
has  fled.  The  villain  has  escaped  me.  I  have  sought  him  long, 
but  he  has  still  eluded  my  pursuit.  But  vengeance,  though  it 
sleeps,  doth  not  die ;  and  if  he  be  still  upon  the  living  earth,  I 
will  yet  track  him  to  his  lair.  The  blood  of  my  murdered  sister 
cries  out  to  me  from  the  ground.  My  heart  is  not  deaf  to  the 
appeal." 

"Alas,  Henry/'  said  Esther,  "vengeance  belongeth  only  to 
God.  Vengeance  is  his,  and  he  will  repay.  Believe  me,  that  it 


100  MERRY-MOUNT. 


is  not  wise  nor  well  thus  to  constitute  yourself  the  avenger  even 
of  one  so  deejay  injured.  Think  you,  that  he  who  hath  been 
the  wicked  cause  of  all  this  misery  shall  escape  God's  wrath  ? 
But  tell  me,  Henry,  was  the  fearful  mystery  ever  solved,  which 
rendered  your  sister's  marriage  a  nullity,  and  thus  blasted  her 
happiness  and  laid  her  in  an  untimely  grave  1 " 

"  It  was  so,"  answered  Maudsley,  in  the  same  calm  but  gloomy 
tone.  "  The  mystery  was  solved,  at  least  in  part ;  solved  suffi 
ciently  to  teach  my  sister  that  there  was  no  relief  except  beyond 
the  grave.  But  the  tale  is  long,  and  at  this  time  and  place  need 
not  be  repeated ;  but  you  shall  know  it  all.  Suffice  it  now, 
when  I  inform  you,  that  their  marriage  was  indeed  a  nullity 

because "  and  as  he  spoke,  Maudsley's  voice  subsided  into 

a  hoarse  whisper,  which,  however,  fell  distinctly  upon  Esther's 
ear,  "  because  there  was  another  gentle  and  earlier  claimant  for 
the  honored  hand  of  her  husband." 

As  he  spoke  these  words,  Maudsley  laughed  with  a  low,  sav 
age  laugh,  that  chilled  the  blood  of  his  companion.  "  There 
were  other  matters  too,  but  I  will  not  now  spread  aught  of  the 
foul  mass  before  your  eyes.  Suffice  it,  that  the  villain  has 
escaped,  for  you  know  that  I  was  unfortunately  absent  during 
the  whole  of  these  transactions,  but  while  he  exists,  the  fires  of 
hell  could  not  burn  out  the  record  of  his  guilt.  Let  us  speak 
no  more  of  this,  dear  Esther,"  continued  Maudsley,  shaking  off 
the  dark  shadow  from  his  mind,  and  speaking  again  in  the 
earnest,  but  more  vivacious  tone  which  was  natural  to  him.  "  Let 
us  speak  no  more  of  this,  but  of  you.  The  dead  are  in  their 
graves,  where  the  broken-hearted  sleep  well.  But  do  not,  in 
mercy  do  not,  persist  in  your  sad  determination  to  entomb  your 
self  thus  body  and  soul  together  in  these  gloomy  deserts.  With 
every  day  which  finds  your  stay  prolonged,  the  cold  enchantment 
seems  to  wind  itself  more  and  more  about  your  senses.  Arouse 
yourself  ere  your  blood  be  chilled  and  your  brain  bewildered. 


Promise  me,  dearest  Esther,  that  I  may  return  and  bear  you 
from  this  fearful  world." 

"I  had  hoped,"  said  Esther,  "  that  we  had  done  with  this 
subject,  upon  which  it  is  impossible  that  our  hearts  should  ever 
beat  in  unison.  Distress  me,  I  beseech  you,  no  farther,  and 
believe  that  my  decision  is  irrevocable." 

It  will  appear  from  these  last  observations,  that  the  lovers,  in 
spite  of  the  knowledge  of  their  mutual  affections,  were  as  far 
from  a  real  understanding,  as  when  they  la^t  separated  in  Eng- 
land. 

The  impetuosity  and  wilfulness  of  Maudsley's  character  were 
as  incorrigible  as  the  calm  but  almost  infatuated  enthusiasm  of 
Esther  was  inflexible. 

It  had  been  her  lover's  object  throughout  their  whole  inter 
view,  to  induce  her  to  forswear  the  purpose  to  which  she  had 
devoted  her  life.  He  represented  to  her  in  the  most  passionate 
terms  the  cruelty  to  herself,  to  him,  to  her  brother,  to  all  the 
world,  of  which  she  was  guilty  in  thus  encloistering  herself  for 
life  in  that  dreary  wilderness.  He  painted  in  the  most  glowing 
colors,  which  a  lively  fancy  could  suggest,  the  delights  which 
might  yet  be  theirs,  surrounded  at  home  by  all  the  enjoyments 
of  affluence  in  a  civilized  land. 

His  words  fell  coldly,  more  than  coldly  upon  Esther's  ear.  It 
was  not  that  she  was  an  enthusiast,  and  therefore,  like  many 
enthusiasts,  a  biorot:  for  this  her  nature  was  too  feminine.  But 

O          ' 

she  was  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  dissimilarity  of  their 
characters  and  ruling  motives,  was  so  absolute,  that  happiness 
together  was  impossible.  All  that  she  deemed  most  high  and 
holy  upon  earth  in  his  eyes  was  trivial  or  false.  While  he  could 
not  help  respecting  her  enthusiasm,  he  looked  upon  it  as  mad 
ness,  and  could  not  avoid  expressing,  in  indignant  language,  his 
abhorrence  of  the  influences  by  which  her  whole  existence  was 
sacrificed  to  the  maintenance  of  a  pernicious  and  an  absurd  idea. 


102  MERRY-WOUNT. 


All  his  social  relations,  his  whole  education,  all  the  influences 
under  which  he  had  existed  since  boyhood,  had  taught  him  to  look 
upon  Puritanism  as  an  uncouth  and  uncomfortable  fanaticism. 
His  mind  revolted  at  the  thought  that  a  woman  like  Esther  Lud- 
low,  partly  in  deference  to  the  feelings  of  a  moody  and  weak- 
minded  brother,  partly  in  sympathy  with  a  perverse  movement  of 
the  age,  should  bury  all  her  graces  in  this  living  sepulchre. 
His  pride  too  had  been  aroused,  and  in  crossing  the  ocean  his. 
purpose  had  been  fixed  —  he  had  vowed  in  his  heart  to  tear 
Esther  from  the  wilderness  to  which  she  had  devoted  herself, 
and  to  bear  her  home  in  triumph.  He  looked  upon  her  as  a 
martyr,  chained  to  a  funereal  pyre,  as  a  victim  exposed  in  the 
desert  to  appease  the  wrath  of  a  fabulous  dragon,  and  he  felt  a 
thousand  hearts  swelling  within  him,  as  he  swore  to  rescue  her 
from  her  impending  fate. 

The  quarrel  which  had  occurred  between  them  long  before  in 
England,  was  of  a  nature  which  was  almost  irremediable,  because 
it  had  for  the  first  time  torn  aside  the  veil  from  both  their  hearts, 
and  revealed  to  each  other  the  gulf  which  in  reality  flowed  be 
tween  them.  The  sneering  indignation  which  Maudsley  had 
allowed  himself  to  express  against  the  infatuation  of  Walter 
Ludlow,  and  the  influence  which  it  had  exercised  upon  the  mind 
of  his  sister,  had  led  to  a  more  full  development  of  their  feelings, 
and  Maudsley  learned  for  the  first  time,  with  anger  and  dismay, 
the  extent  of  what  he  designated  Esther's  fanaticism. 

Between  two  natures,  both  proud,  while  the  determination  of 
the  one  was  fully  matched  by  the  impetuosity  of  the  other,  it 
may  be  easily  imagined  that  the  chasm  must  have  grown  each 
day  wider.  It  is  unnecessary,  therefore,  at  this  time,  to  relate 
much  more  of  their  present  interview,  farther  than  to  say,  that 
they  found  each  other  unchanged  in  feelings,  and  yet  unchanged 
in  purpose.  Esther's  nature  revolted  at  the  sacrifice  of  all  her 
convictions  and  purposes,  which  was  demanded  of  her  almost 


MERRY-MOUNT.  1Q3 


imperiously  by  her  wilful  lover;  while  he,  despite  the  words  of 
affection  which  had  fallen  from  her  lips  when  there  could  have 
been  no  intention  to  deceive,  felt  his  pride  engaged  in  the  con 
test,  and  could  not  help  arguing  to  himself,  that,  after  all,  that 
affection  must  be  calm  and  passionless,  which  possessed  not 
sufficient  power  to  conquer  her  religious  fanaticism. 

Suddenly,  while  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  his 
mind,  another  thought  suggested  itself  to  him.  With  startling 
abruptness  he  requested  to  know  who  was  the  fortunate  per 
sonage  in  Puritan  habiliments,  who  had  lifted  her  from  the 
ground  at  the  time  when  she  had  so  nearly  escaped  destruction 
by  the  wolf. 

Although  at  the  moment  when  the  adventure  happened 
Maudsley  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  whose  life  was  in  his 
hands,  yet  he  now  felt  a  certainty  under  the  circumstances  that 
the  female  whom  he  had  rescued  from  danger  could  have  been 
no  other  than  Esther. 

Esther  was  almost  overpowered,  when  she  was  thus  suddenly 
informed  that  it  was  to  Maudsley's  arm  that  her  safety  upon  that 
occasion  had  been  owing;  but  even  while  she  was  murmuring 
her  broken  expressions  of  gratitude,  Maudsley  impetuously  re 
peated  his  question. 

"Led  hither,"  said  he,  "by  a  mysterious  fate,  I  was  yet  too 
far  removed  to  recognise  either  your  own  countenance  or  that 
of  your  sable-suited  admirer.  It  was  not  your  brother  —  the 
stranger  was  far  taller  than  Walter  Ludlow^.  Rebuke  my  im 
petuosity,  if  you  like,  but  you  cannot  wonder  that  I  should  be 
desirous  of  learning  the  name  of  one  who  appeared  to  stand 
toward  you  in  such  near  and  dear  relationship." 

"  Master  Maudsley,"  replied  Esther,  with  cold  dignity,  "  I 
have  no  hesitation  in  informing  you,  that  the  individual  whom 
you  saw  upon  this  spot  is  not  in  near  or  dear  relationship  with 
me.  He  is  a  casual  acquaintance,  brought  hither  upon  that  day 


104  MERRY-MOUNT. 


by  some  trifling  business  with  my  brother.  He  is,  I  believe,  a 
member  of  no  church  community,  although  he  seems  a  man  of 
a  religious  and  even  ascetic  disposition.  He  is  a  person,  how 
ever,  whose  society  I  am  very  far  from  affecting." 

"  How  call  you  his  name?  "  asked  Maudsley,  eagerly. 

"  He  is  called  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner,"  answered  Esther. 

"  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner,"  cried  Maudsley,  with  a  strange 
sharp  cry,  as  if  a  dagger  had  been  plunged  into  his  heart,  "  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner,  the  associate  of  Esther  Ludlow !  Idiot 
that  I  was,  not  to  have  suspected  this  before,"  continued  he  to 
himself,  in  an  undertone. 

He  mastered  his  emotion,  however,  by  a  strong  effort,  and 
forcibly  directed  the  conversation,  for  a  few  moments,  into  other 
channels.  There  was,  however,  a  baleful  and  inexplicable  spell 
exercised  upon  his  nature,  by  the  very  name  of  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner.  Suspicions,  vaguely  defined,  and  yet  insurmountable, 
united  with  a  real  knowledge  of  certain  matters  which  inspired 
distrust  and  even  hatred,  filled  his  soul  whenever  the  image  of  the 
mysterious  knight  was  presented  to  him.  It  would  be  premature 
at  this  time,  to  say  more  than  that  he  felt  a  strong,  although,  to 
a  certain  degree,  a  mysterious  repugnance,  to  the  character  of 
that  adventurer,  and  a  sensation  of  horror  at  finding  him  in 
communion  with  Esther  Ludlow.  His  disordered  fancy  would 
not,  for  a  long  time,  obey  the  dictates  of  his  reason,  and  after 
a  few  moments  of  broken  and  incoherent  conversation,  during 
which  the  wonder,  indignation,  and  pity  of  Esther  were  alter 
nately  excited,  he  found  at  last  that  it  was  impossible  for  him 
any  longer  to  repress  his  agitation.  Muttering  a  curse  upon 
his  weakness,  and  upon  the  folly  which  had  led  him  across  the 
ocean,  only  to  exhibit  and  proclaim  it  the  more,  he  uttered 
aloud  a  few  hasty  and  common-place  expressions  of  farewell,  and 
then  abruptly  quitted  the  presence  of  Esther,  whom  he  left 
profoundly  afflicted  at  the  character  and  the  result  of  this 
singular  interview. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  105 


The  dark  shadows  of  evening  were  already  descending  upon 
the  earth,  as  Maudsley,  yielding  to  the  tumultuous  torrent  of  his 
emotions,  strode  down  the  glade  with  wild  rapidity,  as  if  lashed 
forth  into  the  outer  darkness  by  furies.  He  dashed  violently 
across  the  open  space  which  lay  immediately  before  him,  and 
plunged  into  the  gloomy  arches  of  the  pine  forest.  The  eternal 
shade,  the  cold  and  fragrant  breath  of  the  mighty  grove,  con 
veyed  no  coolness  to  his  heated  brow,  no  soothing  balm  to  the 
fever  in  his  soul.  Stung  by  a  multitude  of  torturing  fancies, 
which  writhed  and  coiled  like  serpents  from  his  heart,  he  swept 
rapidly  through  the  dim  and  silent  wood.  He  fled  like  a  coward 
before  the  phantom  shapes  of  his  excited  imagination.  Was  it 
for  this,  that  he  had  sacrificed  or  was  ready  to  sacrifice  his  all, 
home,  country,  friends,  ease,  wealth,  ambition,  pleasure  ?  Was 
it  for  this,  that  he  had  been  ready,  though  he  avowed  it  not,  to 
forsake  the  bright  sunshine  of  the  world,  and  bury  himself  in 
the  vast  cloisters  of  the  secluded  wilderness?  Was  it  for  this, 
that  he  had  struggled  so  long  and  so  bravely  with  his  feelings, 
only  to  find  himself  at  last,  the  laughing-stock  of  a  hypocritical, 
mysterious  adventurer,  whom  he  had  found  to  his  horror,  or 
whom  he  imagined  that  he  had  found  his  successful  rival.  It 
was  strange,  but  with  only  the  most  casual  acquaintance  with 
Gardiner,  Maudsley  had,  from  the  first,  conceived  an  indefina 
ble  hatred  for  him,  which,  moreover,  as  he  fancied,  had  been  as 
cordially  reciprocated.  He  had,  when  occasionally  in  his 
presence,  been  overcome  by  a  singular  and  unaccountable  sen 
sation,  and  had  found  himself,  urged  by  he  knew  riot  what 
strange  fascination,  gazing  intently  upon  his  face,  and  striving 
to  call  up  some  dim,  vague,  long  faded  impression  of  earlier 
years.  In  such  times,  he  had  been  oppressed  by  a  supernatural 
sense  of  prev  ious  existence, fantastically  united  with  a  boding 
presentiment  of  the  future,  a  mysterious  blending  in  his  mind  of 
the  forgotten  past,  and  the  unknown  hereafter,  which  troubled 


106  MERRY-MOUNT. 


him,  he  knew  not  how  or  why,  and  which  seemed  as  it  were,  a 
spell  exercised  upon  him  by  the  dark  physiognomy  of  the 
knight.  But  his  sensations  now  were  real,  or  he  deemed  them 
such.  Here  was  the  mystery  of  Gardiner's  existence  solved  ; 
here  was  the  hidden  reason  of  his  enigmatical  and  apparently 
aimless  residence  in  this  wilderness ;  here  was  the  cause  of  all 
this  masquerading,  his  double-faced  contradictory  mode  of  life, 
his  solitary  journeys,  his  sudden  absences.  It  was  plain  as 
light.  He  had  wondered  at  his  Puritanism,  or  at  what  he  had 
always  considered  his  affectation  of  Puritanism  —  he  wondered 
no  longer.  It  was  the  love  of  Esther  Ludlow,  which  he  sought 
in  the  depths  of  these  deserts.  It  was  the  love  of  Esther 
Ludlow  which  worked  these  sudden  and  bewildering  transforma 
tions.  Was  it  strange  ?  Was  it  unnatural  1  Did  he  not  him 
self  acknowledge  but  too  truly  the  potency  of  the  spell  ?  He 
shuddered  when  he  contemplated  the  picture.  If  Esther  loved 
him,  what  a  fate  was  hers.  In  what  a  gulf  of  desolation  would 
her  trusting  heart  be  wrecked  ! 

He  checked  himself  for  a  moment  as  he  was  speeding  breath 
lessly  on,  curbed  the  career  of  his  insane  thoughts,  and  endeav 
ored  forcibly  to  dismiss  the  subject  from  his  mind.  What  was 
it  all  to  him  ?  He  had  torn  himself  from  the  presence  of 
Esther,  and  he  had  internally  vowed,  that  the  charm  should  be 
forever  broken,  which  had  bound  him  so  long.  What  then  to 
him  was  Gardiner's  character,  or  his  mystery,  or  his  way  of  life? 
Let  him  be  the  devil  if  he  would,  and  if  the  pure-hearted 
Puritan  maiden  chose  to  devote  her  white  soul  to  the  fiend,  what 
mattered  it  to  him,  when,  how,  or  why,  the  unholy  contract 
should  be  completed? 

On,  on  he  fled  once  more  through  the  mirky  night,  a  fugitive 
from  his  own  thoughts,  which  seemed  like  spectres  to  people  the 
gloomy  glades  of  the  forest. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE    MISHAWUM    GIANT    RECEIVES    COMPANY. 

UPON  that  same  morning,  Thomas  Walford,  the  smith  of 
Mishawum,  was  standing  alone  at  his  wilderness  forge.  The 
promontory  of  Mishawum  was  a  narrow  tongue  of  land,  thrust 
boldly  out  into  the  bay,  having  the  Mystic  River  on  its  northern, 
and  the  Charles  River  on  its  southern  side,  and  advancing  very 
closely  to  the  craggy  heights  of  Shawmut.  Like  its  neighbor 
peninsula,  Mishawum  was  a  rough,  precipitous  spot  of  ground, 
with  vast  granite  rocks  frowning  here  and  there  through  the 
masses  of  pine  and  cedar,  which  with  white  and  black  oak, 
hickory,  birch,  and  maple,  covered  its  sides  with  wild  and 
ancient  verdure.  Thomas  Walford  has  already  been  presented 
to  the  reader's  acquaintance.  His  residence,  consisting  of  a 
thatched  log-house,  with  a  kind  of  shed  or  shanty  which  he 
called  his  forge,  was  surrounded  by  a  strong  palisade  of  cedar 
trunks,  ten  feet  in  height  and  driven  deeply  into  the  earth.  The 
general  aspect  of  the  place,  as  may  be  easily  conceived,  was 
wild,  rugged,  and  solitary.  The  house  stood  not  far  from  the 
water's  edge,  upon  the  southern  declivity  of  a  high  and  precipi 
tous  hill  which  sloped  boldly  down  into  the  bay,  and  the  pros 
pect,  excepting  the  remarkable  feature  of  the  triple-headed, 
craggy  peninsula  opposite,  which  of  course  presented  a  more 
striking  and  picturesque  effect,  when  seen  from  this  distance, 
was  very  much  the  same  as  that  which  was  spread  before  the 
eyes  of  the  solitary  of  Shawmut. 

The  burly  smith   stood   in  his   half-subterranean   and    rustic 
shanty,  whose  low  thatched  roof  was  supported  by  the  twisted 


108  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  rugged  stems  of  cedars.  The  glare  of  a  brilliant  fire 
fell  upon  his  bull-fronted,  shaggy  head,  his  rude  and  swarthy 
features,  and  his  massive  half-naked  bust,  while  the  rest  of  his 
leathern  clad  person  was  in  dark  and  heavy  shadow.  He  was 
striking  millions  of  sparks  from  a  ponderous  and  red-hot  bar 
of  iron,  at  every  stroke  of  his  heavy  sledge-hammer,  and  as 
he  stood  there  in  his  hairy  strength,  the  only  human  figure  in 
that  solitary  retreat,  he  looked  more  like  some  gigantic  creature 
of  heathen  mythology,  some  half  fabulous  Cyclops  forging  in  his 
mountainous  cavern  the  thunderbolts  of  Jupiter,  than  a  real  and 
tangible  mass  of  human  flesh.  Although  Walford  was  the  only 
European  inhabitant  of  the  little  peninsula  where  we  find  him, 
and  which,  as  has  been  seen,  he  held  under  the  Gorges  patent, 
the  place  and  the  neighborhood  were  frequented  from  time  to 
time  by  straggling  parties  of  Indians,  who  were  under  the  nomi 
nal  jurisdiction  of  a  peaceable  and  amiable  young  sagamore, 
who  had  already  formed  friendly  connections  with  the  scattered 
residents  of  the  bay.  The  natives  generally  entertained  a  con 
siderable  respect  for  the  blacksmith,  who,  although  very  good- 
natured,  and  never  disposed  to  quarrel  with  them  unnecessarily, 
had  yet  occasionally  been  known  to  inflict  severe  chastisement 
upon  some  of  their  number  who  had  presumed  to  meddle 
with  him. 

The  smith  paused  for  a  moment,  as  the  plash  of  oars  sounded 
from  the  water  immediately  below  him,  and  listened  to  learn 
if  perchance  any  visitors  were  about  to  claim  his  hospitality  that 
morning.  He  supposed,  however,  for  he  did  not  take  the  trouble 
to  go  to  the  verge  of  the  cliff  to  look,  that  some  stray  Indians 
were  landing  from  their  canoes  upon  the  beach  below,  for  the 
sake  of  baking  clams,  frying  fish,  boiling  lobsters,  or  for  some 
other  peaceful  and  culinary  purpose,  and  he  had  ceased  to 
trouble  himself  any  more  about  the  matter,  when  all  at  once  he 
heard  footsteps  scrambling  up  the  steep  ascent,  and  the  sound 


MERRY-MOUNT.  109 


of  several  English  voices  sounding  nearer  and  nearer  to  his 
own  precincts.  Presently  there  was  a  loud  rapping  at  his  outer 
gate. 

"  Hillo,  hillo,  hillo,  Master  Wai  ford  !"  sounded  through  the 
palisades. 

"  Hillo,  hillo,"  answered  the  smith,  without  stirring  from  his 
anvil.  u  Who  makes  such  a  pother  at  this  early  hour  in  the 
morning  ?  " 

"  Open  thy  gates,  thou  inhospitable  smith,"  said  a  deep, 
muddy  voice,  which  evidently  had  soaked  through  the  frowzy 
beard  of  Robert  Bootefish.  "  Dost  mean  to  treat  thy  loving 
friends  and  Christian  neighbors  as  pagan  Indians  or  heathen 
Puritans?  Here  be  I,  firstly,  and  secondly  Master  Humphrey 
Rednape,  with  your  friends  Cakebread  and  the  Canary  Bird,  all 
come  to  visit  you." 

"  They  will  call  me  Canary  Bird,  Master  Smith,"  whistled  a 
shrill  voice  through  the  palisade,  "  though  they  know  as  well  as 
you  that  my  name  is  Bernaby  Doryfall.  But  for  the  love  of 
good  fellowship  let  us  in.  Fear  nothing  here;  we  are  but  honest 
friends  and  Christian  white  men." 

"  Walk  in,  my  masters,"  said  the  burly  smith,  in  a  good- 
humored  voice,  swinging  wide  open  the  gate  to  admit  his 
visitors. 

"  Good  morrow,  Master  Smith,"  said  Bootefish,  saluting  his 
host  with  great  dignity,  as,  followed  by  his  three  companions,  he 
waddled  through  the  gates,  with  the  stately  importance  of  a 
plethoric  duck.  "  You  have,  I  think,  met  with  these  worthy 
gentlemen  before.  Look  you,  this  be  Rednape,  a  swashing 
knave,  and  a  godly  but  a  drunken  sot,  and  a  quarreller  in  his 
liquor.  And  this  be  Peter  Cakebread,  a  wise  fellow,  I  promise 
you,  and  well-instructed  and  witty,  but  a  -vile  coward,  who 
would  cut  his  shadow  from  his  heels  if  he  could,  to  prevent 
it  from  following  and  frightening  him  forever.  And  here,  this 

VOL.  i.  10 


1 10  MERRY-MOUNT. 


yellow-coated,  piping,  whistling  little  gentleman,  is  the  Canary 
Bird." 

"  They  call  me  Cana " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sot,"  interposed  the  chief  butler  of  Merry- 
Mount,  indignant  at  the  interruption,  as  the  poor  little  Canary 
Bird  was  beginning  to  chirp  his  favorite  tune. 

"  Ye  are  all  heartily  welcome,  my  masters,"  said  the  smith 
after  the  ceremonious  Bootefish  had  concluded  his  introductory 
harangue;  "  and  now,  if  each  of  you  will  seat  himself  upon  the 
softest  stump  he  can  find,  we  will,  if  you  like,  proceed  to  busi 
ness.  What  brings  you  here  so  early  in  the  morning,  Master 
Bootefish  ?" 

"  Master  Morton  of  Merry-Mount,"  began  the  Canary  Bird. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  again,  thou  impudent  yellow-breasted 
biped,"  interrupted  the  butler,  "and  allow  your  superior  to 
answer  all  questions  directed  to  him.  Is  it  thus  I  am  to  be 
rewarded  for  my  indulgence  in  taking  you  out  a  pleasuring  this 
fine  morning  ?  Have  I  not  bountifully  permitted  you  the  health 
ful  recreation  of  rowing  all  the  way  from  Passanogessit?  for  the 
devil  an  oar  have  I  pulled  that  you  might  all  be  gratified,  and  now 
is  this  my  reward  ?  Be  silent  all.  Good  master  smith,  I  pray 
your  indulgence  upon  these  malapert  young  followers  of  mine." 

"  A  truce  to  your  apologies,"  said  the  blacksmith,  "  and  now 
if  there  be  one  among  you  who  hath  brains  enough,  I  pray  to  be 
informed  of  the  purpose  of  your  visit  to  my  humble  abode  this 
morning.  What  would  ye  of  me,  Master  Bootefish,  for  in  truth 
thou  alone  seemest  possessed  of  a  sufficient  amount  of  gravity 
and  sobriety  to  answer  a  grave  and  sober  question?  " 

"  I  praise  Heaven,"  answered  the  respectable  Bootefish,  in 
answer  to  this  address,  "  I  praise  Heaven  that  I  am  grave  and 
sober,  and,  as  you  remark,  the  only  person  of  gravity  and  so- 
\  briety  in  this  worshipful  company.  Know  then,  Master  Black 
smith,  or  in  other  words,  good  Master  Thomas  Walford,  that  we 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


have  been  specially  deputed  by  his  worship,  Master  Thomas 
Morton,  armigero  and  lord  of  the  manor  of  Merry-Mount,  to  bid 
you  to  certain  mid-summer  night  revels,  which  we  propose  to 
keep  at  the  said  manor  of  Merry-Mount,  to  begin  at  five  of  the 
clock  upon  the  morrow  evening,  and  to  continue  throughout  the 
May-day,  which  immediately  succeedeth,  and  as  many  hours 
longer  as  the  butt  holdeth  out." 

"  And  be  this  all  which  bringeth  you  here  this  morning,  ye 
devil's  crew?"  said  the  courteous  blacksmith  to  his  guests. 
"  Have  I  not  already  been  bidden  to  your  mid-summer  revels  for 
May-day,  as  this  pudding-brained  Bootefish  hath  it,  and  must  my 
privacy  be  disturbed  for  such  a  marvellous  piece  of  information? 
Know,  then,  that  I  have  already  promised  your  Master  of  Misrule 
to  visit  him  to-morrow,  and  with  that  take  yourselves  off.  Away, 
ye  buffoons ;  yet  stop  awhile,  your  throats  shall  be  moistened 
before  you  go." 

So  saying,  he  thrust  his  colossal  thumb  and  fore-finger  into  an 
iron  ring  which  was  fastened  into  a  large  square  stone  in  the 
corner  of  his  shanty,  and  lifting  the  rough  and  ponderous  granite 
slab  as  easily  as  if  it  had  been  the  lid  of  a  snuff-box,  he  sud 
denly  disappeared,  like  some  eastern  enchanter,  into  the  entrails 
of  the  earth. 

When  he  returned,  he  bore  an  earthen  jug  in  his  hand,  out  of 
which  he  filled  a  pewter  can  of  ample  dimensions  for  each  of 
his  guests,  and  pledging  them  himself  from  the  mouth  of  the 
jug,  he  exclaimed, 

"  There,  my  merrymen  all,  taste  ye  the  rosa  solis,  which  hath 
been  ripened  in  the  bowels  of  the  wilderness.  What  sayest  thou, 
Robin  Bootefish,  is  it  potent?" 

"  Truly  good,  Master  Walford,"  said  the  pompous  butler,  his 
elephant  eyes  twinkling  with  delight,  "  truly  thou  hast  laid  bare 
a  fountain  of  unequalled  purity  ;  thou  hast  laid  up  a  treasure  in 
the  earth ;  thou  hast  found  a  mine  of  virgin  gold  in  the 


112  MERRY-MOUNT. 


entrails  of  the  desert.  Good  master  smith,  I  honor  thee  and 
love  thee." 

Peter  Cakebread  drained  his  measure  of  the  potent  fluid  at  a 
single  draught,  gasped  for  breath  as  if  he  had  swallowed  a 
sword,  according  to  his  paternal  avocation,  and  then  with  his 
toad-like  eyes,  glittering  and  almost  darting  from  his  leathern 
face,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  Thou  marvellous  ogre  of  Mishawum !  Thou  potent  enchanter  ! 
Let  me  worship  thee.  Truly  it  is  comforting  to  see  so  sweet 
and  spiritual  a  resurrection  from  beneath  yon  mighty  tombstone. 
Come  then  to  Merry-Mount,  and  be  king  over  us,  most  stalwart 
smith,  for  truly  he  who  can  compel  such  spirits  from  the  bosom 
of  the  earth  should  fitly  rule  his  fellows." 

To  this  spontaneous  indication  of  fealty  to  himself,  or  rather 
to  his  subterranean  treasures,  the  blacksmith  made  no  further 
answer  than  by  filling  each  man's  goblet  again,  and  bidding 
them  drink  it  off  and  begone. 

Thus  conjured,  the  respectable  party  of  visitors,  having 
again  done  due  honor  to  the  blacksmith's  cellar,  bade  their 
host  farewell. 

The  blacksmith  closed  and  barred  the  door  as  they  departed, 
and  then,  after  listening  for  a  moment  to  their  confused  shouting 
and  hallooing  as  they  descended  the  precipitous  hills,  helter- 
skelter,  now  tumbling  over  each  other,  now  quarrelling,  now 
laughing,  now  cursing,  he  stepped  calmly  back  to  his  forge. 

"  Truly  an  ill-begotten  pack  of  drunken  knaves,"  said  he  to 
himself,  as  he  lustily  plied  the  bellows  and  resumed  the  occupa 
tion  which  had  been  interrupted.  "  This  Master  Morton  is  like 
to  raise  trouble  now  for  himself,  by  keeping  such  a  nest  of 
buzzing  hornets  to  swarm  about  the  country,  disturbing  every 
honest  man  in  his  business.  V^Small  love  do  I  bear  yonder 
Plymouth  crop-ears,  yet  I  swear  by  my  stedge-hammer,  I  had 
rather  consort  with  psalm-singers  than  with  such  brawling, 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


drunken  vermin.  Thank  fortune,  I  am  fairly  rid  of  them  for 
to-day;  but  stay  —  what  mean  these  shouts  yonder?  Heaven 
forefend  the  hornets  be  not  all  buzzing  back  again  about  mine 
ears.  Stay,  that  was  the  yell  of  a  red-breech." 

In  truth,  during  the  worthy  blacksmith's  soliloquy,  a  compli 
cation  of  noises  had  been  faintly  audible  in  his  sylvan  retreat. 
For  a  few  moments  after  the  last  shouts  of  his  departing  visitors 
had  died  away  beneath  the  hill,  there  had  been  an  absolute 
silence.  It  was,  however,  soon  broken  by  a  confused  din  of 
angry  shouts,  ferocious  execrations,  clashing  weapons,  reports  of 
fire-arms,  and  that  shrill,  unearthly,  fiendlike  yell  of  the  savage, 
which  seems  to  blend  into  one  cry  the  guttural  trill  of  a  Tyro- 
lese  mountaineer  with  the  long  howl  of  a  famished  wolf. 

"  The  drunken  varlets  are  squabbling  with  the  savages,"  said 
the  smith,  after  listening  attentively.  "  Have  a  care,  my  mas 
ters,  or  mayhap  ye  may  find  the  Mishawum  red-skins  not  so 
easily  tamed  as  your  Passanogessit  savages  !  Yonder  copper- 
nosed  Bootefish  may  chance  to  find  himself  without  a  scalp  to 
his  wooden  head  before  he  gets  home  to  his  ale  butt.  By  my 
beard,  he  would  gain  by  the  loss  of  it,  for  methinks  his  wits  be 
mightily  in  need  of  airing,  and  I  marvel  how  the  fog  is  to  be 
ever  cleared  from  his  brain,  unless  a  little  daylight  be  let  into  it 
with  a  tomahawk.  Fore  George  !  but  there  be  swinging  blows 
and  bloody  coxcombs  passing  about  by  this  time,  I  warrant  me," 
concluded  the  smith,  as  the  noise  of  the  scuffle  became  gradually 
louder  and  more  distinct,  while  the  contending  parties  appeared 
to  be  struggling  nearer  to  the  blacksmith's  abode. 

The  worthy  blacksmith,  who  had  no  particular  desire  that  his 
solitude  should  again  be  interrupted  by  the  drunken  foolery  of 
his  late  visitors,  was  yet  something  curious  as  to  the  cause  of 
the  uproar.  As  he  was,  however,  about  sallying  forth  to  inves 
tigate  the  matter,  the  sounds  seemed  suddenly  to  cease.  Either 
10* 


114  MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  contest,  whatever  it  might  have  been,  was  terminated,  or  the 
scene  had  been  shifted  to  a  more  distant  spot.  He  accordingly 
relinquished  his  intention,  and  went  on  with  his  work  for  a  few 
minutes,  until  he  was  again  aroused  by  confused  shouts,  yells, 
and  a  variety  of  other  disturbing  sounds,  which  again  arrested 
his  attention. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  H5 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    M1SHAWUM. 

"  BESHREW  me,"  said  Wai  ford  to  himself,  suddenly  abandon- 
ino-  his  foro-e,  and  advancing  towards  a  look-out  which  he  had 

O  O      "  O 

built  for  himself  within  the  precincts  ;  "  beshrew  me,  but  there 
seems  to  be  warm  work  going  on  yonder.  Of  a  surety  yon 
vagabonds  have  incensed  by  their  devil's  tricks,  some  straggling 
party  of  my  red-legged  friends.  Peaceable  they  be  and  well 
disposed  to  those  whom  they  have  learned  to  respect ;  but  the 
Lord  preserve  the  scalps  of  such  as  meddle  with  them  without 
need." 

With  these  words  he  ascended  his  rustic  watch-tower,  and 
looked  out  upon  every  side.  He  was  apparently  not  long  in 
arriving  at  a  conclusion  as  to  the  state  of  the  case,  for  after 
remaining  but  a  few  moments  in  his  elevated  position,  he  de 
scended  with  great  rapidity,  put  on  a  huge  iron  head-piece,  and 
arming  himself  with  his  sledge-hammer,  strode  resolutely  to 
wards  his  gate,  unbarred  its  fastening,  and  sallied  forth  in  the 
direction  of  the  din  which  had  now  subsided  again  into  a  con 
fused  and  discordant  murmur. 

He  strode  through  the  craggy  and  unsteady  pathway  which 
led  along  the  heights,  descended  from  the  elevation  upon  which 
his  solitary  abode  was  situated,  and  after  tearing  his  way  through 
the  tangled  thickets  which  obstructed  his  passage,  he  emerged 
at  length  upon  a  low,  open  plain,  which,  studded  with  a  few 
large  oak  trees,  expanded  itself  upon  the  southern  and  south 
eastern  base  of  the  crag  where  his  hermitage  was  placed.  When 


H6  MERRY-MOUNT. 


he  arrived  there,  he  found  a  very  peculiar  scene  exhibited  to  his 
observation. 

Upon  the  plain  were  assembled  some  half  dozen  savages, 
belonging,  as  he  well  knew  by  their  costume,  to  the  scattered 
tribe  who  inhabited  the  neighborhood  of  his  peninsula.  They 
had  evidently  that  morning  established  a  temporary  encampment, 
as  a  single  wigwam,  hastily  constructed  of  oak  saplings  fas 
tened  into  the  earth,  with  their  boughs  bent  together  at  the  top, 
and  covered  over  with  coarse  matting,  formed  the  central  point 
of  the  scene.  The  savages  were  all  young,  active,  clean-limbed 
men.  Although  tall,  stout,  and  evidently  excelling  both  in 
activity  and  strength,  their  limbs  possessed  that  smooth,  rounded, 
harmonious  proportion,  in  which  a  general  diffusion  of  bodily 
force  over  the  whole  frame,  rather  than  any  local  development  of 
striking  and  exaggerated  muscular  power,  indicated  the  remark 
able  adaptation  of  the  race  to  encounter  the  life  of  constant 
endurance  and  danger  to  which  their  climate  and  their  habits 
subjected  them.  Their  glossy  black  hair  was  shorn  straight 
across  their  foreheads,  with  a  long  tuft  streaming  like  a  horse's 
tail  behind,  except  in  the  case  of  one  who  seemed  to  be  a  kind 
of  chief,  and  who  wore  his  shaggy  locks  turned  up  over  his 
head  like  a  helmet,  with  the  wing  of  a  hawk  fantastically  twisted 
into  the  crest.  They  were  dressed  in  deer-skin  mantles,  pic 
turesquely  hanging  from  their  shoulders,  wore  leather  sandals 
upon  their  feet,  and  were  all  armed  with  tomahawks,  and  one 
with  bow  and  arrows.  Their  bare  and  robust  chests  were 
daubed  with  rude,  hieroglyphical  emblems,  among  which  the 
impression  of  a  bloody  hand  seemed  the  most  favorite  device, 
probably  because  it  was  the  most  easily  depicted. 

As  the  blacksmith  supposed,  there  had  been  a  contest  between 
the  savages  and  his  late  visitors,  which  had  evidently  terminated 
in  favor  of  the  red  skins,  who  had  borne  their  enemies  captive 
from  the  scene  of  the  affray  to  their  encampment.  Rednape, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  H7 


who  had  received  an  ugly  gasli  upon  the  shoulder,  was  seated  on 
the  ground  with  a  very  ghastly  and  woe-begone  expression  upon 
his  sinister  phisiognomy,  near  the  entrance  to  the  hut.  The 
helpless  Canary  Bird  was  ruefully  contemplating  an  arrow 
which  had  struck  him  in  the  calf  of  the  leg,  without  inflicting  a 
very  severe  wound,  and  which  he  was  painfully  attempting  to 
extract,  to  the  manifest  gratification  and  amusement  of  his  cap 
tors,  who  looked  upon  his  struggles  with  the  most  ironical  and 
irritating  expressions  of  condolence.  As  for  the  dignified  Boote- 
fish,  who  seemed  to  have  escaped  without  bodily  harm  from  the 
contest,  the  savages  had  bound  him  fast  to  the  trunk  of  an  oak, 
where  he  stood  the  butt  of  his  merciless  tormentors,  looking, 
however,  upon  their  grimacing  visages,  and  enduring  their  pain 
ful,  practical  gibes  with  stoical  fortitude. 

"  Grin  away,  ye  horse-faced,  painted  devils,"  said  he,  with  his 
copper  nose  flashing  defiance  at  his  captors,  as  one  of  them,  who 
seemed  to  take  an  especial  delight  in  administering  to  his  dis 
comfort,  was  solacing  himself  by  pricking  the  worthy  precentor's 
massive  cheeks  with  the  point  of  his  knife  till  the  blood  flowed 
at  each  successive  puncture  ;  "  Grin  away,  ye  ugly  villains.  Prick 
away,  ye  black-snouted,  red-legged  vermin.  Do  ye  think  a 
white  man  and  an  Englishman  is  afraid  of  his  own  blood?  By 
the  bones  of  my  father,  had  yonder  sneaking  cowards  but  stood 
their  ground  like  men,  ye  should  have  had  another  tale  to  tell 
when  ye  got  back,  if  ye  ever  did  get  back  to  jour  hovel  here. 
Whoop  away,  and  split  your  throats,  an'  it  please  ye,"  he  con 
tinued,  as  the  savage  uttered  a  fiendish  and  discordant  yell  close 
in  his  ear,  which  was  elicited  not  by  the  chief  butler's  remarks, 
as  he  supposed,  but  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  blacksmith 
upon  the  scene  of  action. 

Wai  ford  had  advanced  with  a  good  deal  of  caution  after  enter 
ing  upon  the  open  ground,  and  had  posted  himself  behind  a  tree 
for  a  few  moments,  while  he  took  a  rapid  survey  of  the  spectacle 


118  MERRY-MOUNT. 


before  him.  He  had  entertained  no  doubt  from  the  first,  that 
the  Englishmen  had  in  some  manner  or  other  originally  provoked 
the  savages,  and  he  had  been  at  first  disposed  to  let  them  finish 
the  quarrel  for  themselves  as  they  had  begun  it.  Finding, 
however,  that  the  odds  were  so  unequal,  or  rather  observing  that 
the  contest  had  in  reality  ceased,  and  that  his  countrymen  and 
late  turbulent  visitors  were  likely  to  suffer  a  great  deal  of  injury 
from  their  captors,  even  if  they  escaped  with  their  lives,  his 
blood  was  roused ;  and  having  great  reliance  on  the  personal 
strength  and  unparalleled  audacity  which  had  hitherto  supported 
him  so  well  during  his  solitary  existence  in  these  deserts,  he  had 
resolved  to  come  to  their  rescue  if  possible.  While  the  savages, 
one  or  two  of  whom  had  already  entered  into  their  hut  intent 
upon  domestic  and  culinary  affairs,  while  the  rest  were  playfully 
indulging  themselves  in  a  variety  of  pretty  and  humorous  sports 
at  the  expense  of  their  victims,  pricking  their  ears,  pulling  their 
noses,  and  punching  their  sides  with  the  points  of  their  sharp 
knives,  were  thus  comparatively  inattentive  to  all  but  the  busi 
ness  before  them,  he  had  stolen  silently  and  cautiously,  but  with 
rapidity  from  one  tree  to  another,  till  at  last,  with  a  sudden 
bound  he  had  thrown  himself  among  them,  cutting  the  cords 
which  bound  the  valorous  Bootefish  at  two  blows  of  his  hunting 
knife,  and  then  waving  his  sledge-hammer  about  his  head  with 
an  imposing  air  of  defiance. 

Meanwhile  the  savages,  two  or  three  of  whom  had  thrown 
their  arms  upon  the  ground,  and  were  busily  occupied  with  a 
great  heap  of  clams,  upon  which  they  were  proposing  to  hold  a 
triumphal  feast  in  honor  of  their  victory,  sprang  suddenly  to 
their  feet,  uttering  a  shrill  halloo  of  mingled  surprise  and  rage. 

The  doughty  butler,  finding  himself  no  longer  a  prisoner, 
seized  a  tomahawk  which  lay  providentially  near  him  upon 
the  ground-,  and  rushed  like  an  enraged  bull  upon  the  nearest 
Indian. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  H9 


The  savage,  after  receiving  a  severe  blow  upon  the  head, 
which  seemed,  however,  not  even  to  stun  him,  closed  with  his 
foe  in  a  fierce  and  close  embrace,  which  lasted  for  a  few  minutes, 
till  both  the  combatants,  furious  with  rage  and  hatred,  rolled 
together  upon  the  ground,  dealing  each  other  blows  with  hands, 
teeth  and  feet,  neither  seeming  capable  of  relinquishing  his 
deadly  hold  upon  the  other  so  long  as  life  or  breath  remained. 
While  these  two  were  thus  engaged  in  desperate  struggle,  the 
savage  who  had  taken  the  lead  in  tormenting  the  butler  while  he 
was  bound,  infuriated  at  his  escape,  and  quivering  all  over  with 
disappointed  malice,  now  turned  upon  the  blacksmith,  who  had 
thus  come  so  unexpectedly  to  the  rescue.  He  was  a  tall,  power 
ful  creature,  less  in  stature  than  his  gigantic  antagonist,  but 
wonderfully  active  and  supple  in  his  movements.  He  had  thrown 
off  the  deer-skin  mantle  from  his  shoulders,  and  now  advanced 
to  the  conflict,  wielding  aloft  his  tomahawk,  his  eye  flaming  with 
fury,  and  his  yell  ringing  through  the  plain  like  the  cry  of  a 
wild  beast. 

The  blacksmith  saw  that  there  was  no  child's  play  before  him. 
He  was  unwilling  to  engage  at  first  in  close  hug  with  his  enemy, 
for  he  knew,  by  experience,  that  his  anointed  and  slippery  skin, 
the  snake-like  movements  of  his  body,  and  his  practical  adroit 
ness,  would  counteract  somewhat  the  advantages  of  his  own 
enormous  strength.  He  retreated  a  little  space  to  a  tree,  while 
the  savage  standing  at  about  six  yards'  distance  paused  a  moment 
with  his  tomahawk  brandished  high  in  air,  and  apparently  delib 
erating  in  his  own  mind,  whether  he  would  close  with  him  at 
once,  or  assail  him  from  that  distance.  His  decision  was  appar 
ently  soon  made,  for  whirling  his  heavy  tomahawk  twice  or 
thrice  around  his  head,  he  suddenly  hurled  it  with  the  velocity 
of  a  thunderbolt  at  the  head  of  his  enemy.  If  the  smith  had 
not  providentially  donned  his  head-piece  before  sallying  forth 
that  morning,  his  days  had  been  numbered,  for  the  weapon 


120  MERRY-MOUNT. 


struck  full  upon  his  forehead,  glanced  from  the  rounded  iron 
surface  of  his  cap,  and  then  buried  itself  in  the  trunk  of  the 
tree  against  which  he  was  leaning.  The  bull-fronted  smith 
shook  his  head  slightly,  as  if  a  wasp  had  been  buzzing  in  his 
ears,  and  stood  as  unmoved  and  impassible  as  before.  The 
savage,  furious  at  having  been  foiled,  uttered  a  yell,  and  then 
plucking  his  long,  sharp  knife  from  its  sheath,  rushed  madly 
upon  him.  Walford  calmly  awaited  his  onset  till  his  enemy's 
hands  were  almost  at  his  throat,  and  then  swinging  his  mighty 
sledge-hammer  high  in  the  air,  he  dealt  the  savage  a  single  blow 
upon  the  skull.  It  was  enough.  The  wretch  dropped  like  a 
log,  without  a  single  cry  or  motion,  and  lay  stone  dead  at  his 
feet. 

While  this  rapid  tragedy  was  acting,  Bootefish  and  his  foe  still 
lay  coiled  together  in  ferocious  embrace,  while  the  other  four 
savages  had  been  engaged  in  an  attempt  to  secure  Rednape  and 
the  Canary  Bird.  They  had  been  but  half  successful,  however, 
for  Rednape,  having  caught  up  a  knife  which  one  of  the  savages 
had  left  upon  the  ground,  had  struck  about  him  so  vigorously  as 
to  disable  one  of  them,  and  to  free  himself  entirely  from  their 
grasp.  Finding  himself  clear,  and  not  troubling  himself  much 
about  the  general  issue  of  the  combat,  he  had  taken  to  his 
long  legs,  and  was  skimming  across  the  open  plain  with  great 
celerity. 

The  unfortunate  Doryfall,  however,  was  securely  bound  hand 
and  foot,  and  fastened  to  the  same  tree  which  had  just  before 
held  Bootefish  in  captivity.  He  was  of  course  unable  to  render 
assistance  to  the  blacksmith,  who  now  found  himself  opposed 
single  handed  to  three  vigorous  and  unwounded  enemies,  not 
counting  the  fourth  who  had  received  several  ugly  blows  from 
Rednape,  and  who  now  seemed  crawling  towards  Bootefish  and 
his  foe,  for  the  apparent  purpose  of  expending  his  remaining 
strength  in  behalf  of  his  red  brother,  who  appeared  in  danger 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


of  yielding  up  the  last  breath  in  the  hands  of  the  truculent 
butler. 

The  three  now  made  a  concerted  and  wary  attack  upon  the 
Thunder-cloud  of  Mishawum,  who  had  just  given  such  impres 
sive  proof  of  his  strength  and  courage.  The  smith  maintained 
his  post,  with  his  back  securely  planted  against  the  tree,  and 
daring  his  enemies  to  the  assault  with  calm  but  contemptuous 
gestures.  The  savages  had,  however,  evidently  no  inclination 
to  trust  themselves  to  close  quarters  with  their  colossal  foe,  any 
sooner  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  They  stood  at  some 
twenty  paces'  distance  from  him,  and  as  they  saw  that  he  was 
unprovided  with  any  missile  weapons,  they  knew  themselves  in 
safety  so  long  as  he  remained  in  his  quiet  attitude  against  the 
tree.  So  many  and  so  fabulous  were  the  reports,  that  had  been 
related  among  the  scattered  dwellers  of  the  neighborhood,  con 
cerning  the  strength  of  the  solitary  blacksmith,  that  the  Indians, 
as  we  have  seen,  had  long  stood  in  wholesome  awe  of  his 
prowess,  and  had  generally  been  inclined  rather  to  cultivate  his 
friendship  than  to  encounter  his  enmity.  Being  now  engaged 
in  actual  contest  with  him,  they  were  resolved,  if  possible,  to 
deal  with  him  warily  and  at  advantage.  Fortunately  for  the 
blacksmith,  not  one  of  his  enemies  was  provided  with  fire-arms, 
then  very  rare  among  the  savages,  and  but  one  of  them  was 
armed  with  bow  and  arrows.  They  were  in  fact  not  accoutred 
for  battle,  and  had  accidently  become  engaged  in  conflict,  after 
having  sought  the  peninsula  that  morning  with  entirely  pacific 
purposes.  They  had  indeed,  as  will  hereafter  appear,  been  first 
provoked  by  their  enemies  to  the  contest. 

The  Indian  who  appeared  to  be  the  leader  of  the  party,  and 
who  wore  the  hawk's  wing  in  his  head,  now  suddenly  drew  his 
bow,  while  the  blacksmith's  attention  had  been  momentarily 
withdrawn  from  his  enemies  by  an  unexpected  noise  in  an 
opposite  direction,  and  taking  a  rapid  aim,  discharged  an  arrow 

VOL.   I  11 


122  MERRY-MOUNT. 


at  the  solitary  champion.  The  shaft  sped  with  such  precision 
that  it  struck  his  left  shoulder,  pierced  througli  the  fleshy  part  of 
the  arm,  and  pinned  it  to  the  tree. 

At  the  same  time,  the  two  other  savages  were  cautiously 
stealing,  each  in  an  opposite  direction,  towards  their  intended 
victim,  both  armed  with  knife  and  tomahawk. 

"  Beshrew  me,"  said  the  blacksmith  to  himself,  as  without 
wincing  he  tore  the  arrow  from  his  arm,  "  but  this  be  no  time 
to  stand  pinned  like  a  scarecrow  to  a  tree.  Am  I  to  stay  longer 
here  as  a  butt  for  yon  clumsy  red-breech,  may  I  be  damned  ? 
Look  to  thyself,  thou  greasy  villain,  for,  by  the  Lord,  there  is  a 
bloody  nose  in  store  for  thee,  and  that  before  thou'rt  thirty 
seconds  older." 

As  he  spoke  he  waved  his  sledge-hammer,  and  was  about 
rushing  single-handed  upon  his  foe,  when  a  shrill  whisper  in  the 
air  above  him  suddenly  arrested  his  attention,  and  for  an  instant 
almost  caused  his  stout  heart  to  tremble. 

"  Now  may  the  foul  fiend  burn  ye  all,"  he  shouted,  "  for  if 
mortal  man  must  fight  single-handed  with  three  painted  devils 
upon  the  earth,  and  with  the  powers  of  the  air  beside,  the  odds 
be  too  unequal." 

"  Hist,  hist,  hist,  Thomas  Walford,"  cried  a  shrill  voice 
above  him,  which  seemed  to  have  something  unearthly,  and  yet 
familiar  in  its  tones.  "  Stop  where  thou  art,  mine  honest  and 
most  valorous  Smith,  dodge  about  the  tree  for  a  few  minutes 
longer,  and  thou  art  safe.  Take  my  word  for  it,  and  stick  to  the 
tree." 

"Thy  word,  in  sooth,  thou  invisible  devil,"  answered  the 
simple-minded  blacksmith,  somewhat  puzzled  by  this  counsel 
from  an  aerial  source,  and  yet  involuntarily  obeying  the  com 
mand.  "Thy  word,  in  sooth,  thou  mocking  goblin,  and  why 
should  I  obey  thy  counsel,  if  I  would  keep  my  scalp  under  my 
iron-pot,  and  not  leave  it  dangling  at  yonder  slippery  villain's 
girdle?  What  art  thou,  speak?" 


MERRY-MOUNT.  123 

The  blacksmith  had  dodged  around  the  tree  as  he  made  this 
address  to  his  invisible  companion,  and  had  thus  avoided  a 
second  arrow  from  his  most  troublesome  enemy,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  the  other  two  savages  had  paused  in  their  advance 
upon  him,  for  reasons  which  soon  appeared. 

The  pugnacious  Bootefish,  who  had  clung  to  his  foe  with  the 
tenacity  of  a  bull-dog,  and  who  might  have  been  cut  into  a 
hundred  pieces  before  his  hands  and  teeth  would  have  relin 
quished  their  hold  while  life  remained,  had  at  last  succeeded  in 
exhausting  his  enemy  and  obtaining  the  upper  hand.  Extri 
cating  himself  from  his  savage  clutches,  he  had  planted  his  knee 
upon  his  breast,  and  plunged  his  knife  into  his  throat.  Being 
thus  delivered  from  the  mortal  struggle  in  which  he  had  borne 
himself  so  manfully,  he  had,  although  somewhat  fatigued  by  his 
short  but  ferocious  encounter,  found  no  difficulty  in  dispatching 
the  savage  whom  Rednape  had  wounded,  and  who  had  well  nigh 
crept  upon  him,  before  he  had  completely  vanquished  his  first 
antagonist. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  contest  assumed  a  totally 
different  aspect.  There  were  now  but  three  of  the  six  Indians 
remaining,  arid  they  were  opposed  by  two  Englishmen,  not 
sufficient  odds  for  the  savages,  in  the  estimation  of  the  bold 
blacksmith. 

"Who  art  thou,  thou  voice  without  body  or  legs?"  asked 
Walford,  pausing,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  listen  to  the  admoni 
tions  of  his  mysterious  companion. 

"  Body  enough,  Master  Bootefish,  and  legs  more  than  enough, 
or  my  name's  not  Peter,"  cried  the  voice.  "Look  up  here, 
man,  'tis  no  devil  in  the  air,  but  simply  your  friend  Peter  Cake- 
bread,  roosting  and  cooing  like  an  innocent  dove  upon  the 
branches  of  this  protective  oak." 

"  Roosting  like  an  innocent  dove,  sneaking  and  squealing  like 
a  villainous  tree-toad  rather,"  said  the  blacksmith  indignantly, 


124  MERRY-MOUNT. 

as  he  looked  up  and  saw  the  wizzened  and  preternatural  visage 
of  Cakebread,  grinning  at  him  through  the  leafless  spray  of  the 
tree,  while,  with  his  long,  ape-like  arras  and  legs,  he  swung 
himself  from  one  limb  to  another.  "  Why  thou  lily-livered, 
toad-faced  coward  thou,  had'st  thou  had  one  particle  of  man 
hood  in  thee,  thou  would'st  have  been  down  here  like  the  brave 
old  Bootefish  yonder,  whom,  by  heaven,  I  will  never  quarrel 
with  again,  the  longest  day  I  have  to  live,  helping  me  to  punish 
these  greasy  red-skins,  and  not  roosting  there  like  an  unclean 
bird  among  the  branches  of  a  tree." 

"  Fair  words,  fair  words,  I  pray  thee,  master  blacksmith,3' 
replied  the  unabashed  Cakebread  from  his  commanding  position. 
"Truly,  am  I  not  sitting  here  like  a  guardian  angel,  directing 
your  endeavors,  and  praying  devoutly  for  your  success  1  I  tell 
thee,  there  be  succor  approaching,  for  from  the  summit  of  this 
tree  I  have  just  seen  a  boat  approaching  yonder  beach." 

"  Succor  indeed,  thou  miserable  varlet !  "  answered  Walford, 
"  why  seest  thou  not,  that  three  of  the  six  enemies  be  lumps  of 
dead  clay  already,  and  that  if  I  stay  here  now  talking  to  thee,  it 
is  that  the  other  poor  devils  may  run  away  if  they  will,  for  by 
the  Lord,  I  have  marvellously  more  desire  to  trounce  thee  for 
thy  cowardice,  than  to  chastise  these  red-legged  creatures." 

In  effect  the  combat  seemed  to  have  ended.  The  three 
savages  had  withdrawn  to  the  neighborhood  of  their  wigwam, 
dragging  the  two  bodies  of  their  slaughtered  friends  with  them, 
but  not  daring  to  meddle  with  the  one  which  lay  at  the  feet  of 
the  blacksmith.  They  seemed  now  to  limit  their  ambition  to 
securing  their  captive,  the  luckless  Doryfall,  who,  as  soon  as 
they  had  again  arrived  within  ear-shot,  had  riot  ceased  in  his 
vociferous  attempts  to  set  them  right  as  to  his  real  name,  and  to 
assure  them  that  Canary  Bird  was  only  his  "  totem,"  or  war 
name,  in  Indian  phraseology. 

Whether  the  savages  supposed  that  this  appellation,  derived 


MERRY-MOUNT.  155 


from  so  valiant  a  bird,  indicated  the  extraordinary  heroism  of  its 
wearer,  whether  they  were  particularly  acquainted  with  the 
habits  of  his  feathered  sponsor,  which  was  not  then  often  to  be 
found  in  New  England,  or  whether  indeed  they  understood  or 
attended  to  any  thing  which  fell  from  their  captive's  lips,  did 
not  distinctly  appear.  They  contented  themselves  simply  in 
answer  to  each  successive  exclamation,  with  the  normal  grunt  of 
their  race,  which  might  have  indicated  approbation,  dissent, 
reproof,  or  any  thing  else  that  happened  to  be  in  their  minds. 
At  all  events,  the  unfortunate  Doryfall  did  not  seem  likely  at 
that  moment  to  effect  his  liberation,  which  probably  was  the 
object  to  which  tended  his  incessant  vociferations. 

AVhile  these  matters  were  going  on  more  rapidly  than  has 
been  related,  for  indeed  the  whole  contest  which  has  taken  us  so 
long  to  recite,  had  occupied  but  a  few  minutes,  Peter  Cake- 
bread  had  again  scrambled  to  the  top  of  the  oak,  upon  which  he 
was  perched,  to  take  a  survey  of  the  surrounding  country, 
while  one  of  the  savages,  he,  namely,  who  had  so  adroitly  nailed 
the  blacksmith  to  the  tree  with  his  arrow,  crept  cautiously  to  the 
edge  of  the  thicket,  and  placed  his  ear  to  the  ground.  Scarcely 
had  he  done  so,  when  he  started  to  his  feet  again  with  a  yell  of 
triumph,  and  dashed  furiously  back,  hatchet  in  hand,  towards 
the  wigwam.  At  the  same  moment  Cakebread  uttered  a  shrill 
cry  of  disappointment  and  terror  from  the  summit  of  the  tree. 

"What  ails  thee  now,  thou  liverless  child  of  Satan?"  cried 
the  blacksmith,  standing  upon  the  defensive  again,  while  Boote- 
fish  seized  the  tomahawk  which  had  been  discharged  at  the 
commencement  of  the  conflict  and  buried  in  the  tree. 

"What  ails  thee  now,  that  thou  howlest  so  dismally?  What 
seest  thou  in  yonder  thicket  to  scare  thee  out  of  thy  senses 
again?" 

Before  Cakebread  had  time  to  reply  to  the  blacksmith's 
interrogation,  the  cause  of  his  dismay  and  of  the  savage's  exul- 
11* 


126  MERRY-MOUNT. 


tation  was  explained.  A  party  of  Indians,  numbering  eight  or 
ten,  commanded  by  a  chief  who  appeared  to  be  of  considerable 
importance,  broke  suddenly  from  the  thicket  which  fringed  the 
plain,  and  advanced  rapidly  towards  the  scene  of  action.  At 
this  unexpected  reinforcement,  the  three  savages,  who  had  been 
quite  satisfied  with  the  length  of  the  contest,  and  who  would 
have  been  well  pleased  to  have  got  rid  of  the  blacksmith  and 
his  truculent  friend,  now  plucked  up  heart  again,  and  leaving 
the  captive  Doryfall  to  guard  himself  at  the  entrance  to  their 
wigmam,  they  renewed  the  attack  with  the  assurance  of  an 
easy  victory.  Bootefish  and  the  blacksmith,  each  placed  him 
self  against  a  tree,  prepared  to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as 
possible.  Retreat  was  out  of  the  question,  for  the  party  who 
had  just  emerged  from  the  wood  which  extended  along  the 
western  and  northern  verge  of  the  plain,  and  crowned  the  neigh 
boring  heights,  effectually  surrounded  them  in  the  rear,  and  the 
sea  which  spread  before  them  upon  the  southern  and  eastern 
side,  cut  off  all  escape  in  front.  One  of  the  three  savages  now 
advanced  very  near  to  the  blacksmith,  executing  a  very  furious 
and  warlike  dance  before  his  face,  yelling  with  ferocity,  and 
taunting  him  with  a  variety  of  irritating  gestures.  The  smith, 
convinced  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  remaining 
stationary  any  longer,  feeling  a  far  stronger  inclination  to 
exchange  his  own  life  for  that  of  two  or  three  of  his  foes,  than 
to  stand  still  to  become  the  captive  and  the  laughing-stock  of 
creatures  for  whom  he  had  a  hearty  contempt,  desperate  at  this 
evil  stroke  of  fortune  after  he  had  considered  his  victory  secure, 
and  lashed  into  fury  by  the  insulting  grimaces  of  the  savage, 
now  abandoned  all  idea  of  defence,  and  leaving  the  covert  of 
the  tree,  rushed  madly  at  his  antagonist,  waving  aloft  his 
sledge-hammer. 

The  savage,  whose  brains  would  have  been  dashed  out  if  he 
had  stood  still   an  instant  longer,  took  to  his  heels  as  Walford 


MERRY-MOUNT.  107 


advanced,  and  fled  in  the  direction  of  the  wood.  The  smith 
pursued,  hut  with  less  rapidity,  his  fugitive  foe,  and  in  so 
doing,  found  himself  directly  in  the  centre  of  the  plain,  separated 
from  any  protecting  tree,  and  offering  a  mark  for  half  a  dozen 
arrows,  which  were  immediately  discharged  at  him  by  the  new 
comers,  and  which  inflicted  two  or  three  flesh  wounds.  He 
paused,  foaming  with  rage,  and  eyeing  his  antagonists,  who  were 
thus  goading  him  at  the  same  time  that  they  remained  out  of 
his  reach,  with  the  fury  of  a  baited  and  wounded  bull.  His 
career  seemed  at  an  end;  the  savage  who  had  provoked  him  was 
already  surrounded  by  his  friends,  an  arrow  in  the  leg  impeded 
the  smith's  advance,  and  as  he  stood  there  a  defenceless  mark, 
one  of  the  new  comers,  who  was  the  only  one  provided  with  a 
fire-arm,  suddenly  advanced  to  within  twenty  yards  of  him,  and 
levelled  his  piece  at  his  breast.  The  smith's  hour  was  come. 
He  was  to  die  at  last  like  a  wolf  in  the  wilderness,  and  what 
would  become  of  the  old  woman  on  the  hill  yonder.  He  cursed 
his  folly,  which  had  tempted  him  forth  from  his  fortress  in  behalf 
of  the  riotous  crew,  who  had  disturbed  his  solitude  that  morn 
ing ;  he  cursed  the  fate  which  had  sent  the  new  party  of  red 
skins  thither,  when  he  had  so  fairly  routed  the  first;  lie  cursed 
ten  thousand  times  the  carelessness  which  had  sent  him  out 
without  his  trusty  rfire-arm,  which  alone  would  have  made  him 
more  than  a  match  for  the  whole  of  them. 

"  Fire  away,"  he  roared  with  the  voice  of  a  lion,  "  ye  greasy 
villains,  and  stop  your  chattering;  'tis  a  brave  deed  surely, 
for  a  dozen  Indians  to  get  the  better  of  two  Englishmen,  for  as 
to  yon  trussed  chicken  yonder "  The  report  of  a  match 
lock  interrupted  him  as  he  shouted  his  defiance.  Strano-e  to 
say,  it  seemed  to  come  from  an  opposite  direction,  and  scarcely 
had  the  sound  broken  upon  his  ear,  when  the  savage  who  was 
so  nearly  threatening  his  life,  suddenly  sprang  high  into  the  air, 
uttering  a  quick,  sharp  cry,  and  then  rolled  dead  upon  the 


128  MERRY-MOUNT. 


plain,  his  gun  exploding  harmlessly  as  he  fell.  At  the  same 
instant  two  figures  sprang  rapidly  forward  from  the  eastern  edge 
of  the  plain,  both  armed  with  long,  heavy  matchlocks,  and 
advancing  near  enough  to  be  easily  recognised,  stationed  them 
selves  each  behind  a  tree  at  a  short  distance  from  the  black 
smith. 

"  Fairly  shot,  Sir  Kit,  by  Jupiter  Diespiter,"  said  the  shorter 
of  the  two  as  he  coolly  took  aim  at  the  nearest  savage,  who  was 
however  several  hundred  yards'  distant;  while  Sir  Christopher, 
to  whose  ready  hand  and  skilful  eye  the  blacksmith's  preserva 
tion  was  owing,  rapidly  re-loaded  his  piece.  At  the  same  moment 
Walford  darted  gallantly  forward,  and  notwithstanding  the  dis 
charge  of  a  half  dozen  arrows,  succeeded  in  seizing  the  musket 
of  the  savage  whom  Gardiner  had  slain,  and  in  tearing  his  ammu 
nition  pouch  from  his  body.  Armed  with  these,  and  without 
receiving  a  single  additional  wound,  he  hastily  took  up  a  position 
behind  an  oak,  not  far  removed  from  his  two  confederates. 

"  Hold  your  hand,  Morton,  for  an  instant,"  said  the  knight, 
as  he  saw  Morton  preparing  to  fire.  "  'T  is  but  «.  waste  of 
powder  —  yonder  fellows  are  out  of  your  reach  at  present,  and 
unless  I  mistake  the  matter,  will  be  in  no  hurry  to  come  to 
nearer  quarters ;  my  life  for  it,  they  have  been  provoked  to  this, 
for  I  know  their  temper  well.  At  all  events,  here  be  three  of  us, 
with  good  weapons  in  our  hands,  and  a  fit  match,  I  take  it,  for 
yonder  round  dozen  of  painted  vagabonds.  Pause  a  moment 
and  observe  their  motions  —  you  know  how  deeply  important  I 
consider  it  to  secure  the  good-will  of  the  savages  in  this  neigh 
borhood.  Had  not  our  trusty  giant  yonder  been  in  such 
imminent  peril,  I  would  not  have  hurt  a  hair  of  their  heads. 
Pause  a  moment  and  watch  their  conduct.  By  saint  John,  me- 
thinks  they  show  a  marvellous  inclination  to  skulk  into  the 
covert  yonder." 

"They  are  deliberating,  Sir  Christopher  —  taking  grave  and 


MERRY-MOUNT.  129 


deep  counsel ;  I  obey  you,  and  await  the  result  of  their  cogita 
tions."  With  this  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  lowered  his  weapon 
and  leaned  coolly  against  the  tree. 

"  But  look  at  the  giant  of  Mishawum,  Sir  Christopher,"  he 
resumed,  "with  an  arrow  sticking  in  each  leg!  Tell  me  now, 
looks  he  not  like  a  feathered  Mercury,  with  the  talaria  on  his 
heels  —  save  that  he  is  perhaps  a  trifle  stout  for  sailing  through 
the  air.  Why  he  hath  arrows  enow  in  his  legs  to  furnish  Robin 
Hood.  Had  he  but  a  bow  now,  he  were  as  well  equipped  an 
archer  as  ever  trod  the  merry  green  wood.  And  yet  what 
recks  he  of  bows  or  arrows?  '  Non  eget  Mauris  jaculis  neque 
arcu,'  for  hath  he  not  possessed  himself  of  pouch  and  matchlock 
from  yonder  stiffening  savage?  But  how  earnest  thou  to  see  in 
one  half  second  the  whole  state  of  the  matter,  and  to  drop 
yonder  unfortunate  savage  so  promptly?  " 

"  Experience,  Master  Morton,"  answered  the  knight,  "  expe 
rience,  from  earliest  childhood  to  the  present  moment,  has  been 
tutoring  me.  When  danger  threatens,  never  lay  about  you  in 
the  dark.  Trust  me,  a  man  with  his  eyes  wide  open  is  worth  a 
dozen  heedless  fellows  who  rush  upon  danger  blindfold." 

While  these  events  had  been  taking  place,  or  rather  just  before 
the  very  opportune  arrival  of  Morton  and  Gardiner,  the  valorous 
butler,  who  had  been  severely  bruised  during  the  progress  of  the 
affray,  and  was  well  nigh  exhausted  by  his  extraordinary  efforts, 
had  been  captured  at  last  by  the  two  remaining  Indians  of  the 
first  party,  who  had  attacked  him,  the  one  with  his  bow  and 
arrows,  the  other  with  a  long  hatchet-headed  pole.  They  had 
now  bound  him  again,  and  had  dragged  him  to  the  neighborhood 
of  the  wigwam,  where  he  now  sat  upon  the  ground  very  near  the 
Canary  Bird,  looking  the  image  of  dogged  resolution. 

"  Ah,  look  yonder,  Sir  Christopher,"  continued  Morton,  after 
a  little  pause,  during  which  the  savages  seemed  to  be  still  delib 
erating  whether  to  attack  or  to  hold  a  parley  with  the  three 


130  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Englishmen.  "  Ah,  look  yonder  at  my  paragon  of  precentors, 
my  most  bibulous  of  butlers,  my  most  bandy-legged  of  Boote- 
fishes,  taken  he  is,  captured,  in  durance  vile.  There  too  lies  the 
luckless  Canary  Bird  by  his  side,  picked,  trussed,' and  ready  for 
roasting ;  and  yonder  sneaks  back  Humphrey  Rednape  with  the 
pouch  on  his  shoulders  according  to  your  command.  This  way, 
Humphrey  Rednape,  or  the  red  devils  will  add  you  to  the  brace 
yonder.  Sneak  this  way  man,"  continued  Morton,  as  Rednape, 
who,  as  will  be  remembered,  had  fled  early  from  the  field  of 
battle,  but  who  had  in  reality  been  the  cause  of  the  favorable 
turn  which  things  had  taken,  by  the  information  which  he  had 
conveyed  to  Morton  and  Gardiner,  of  whose  whereabouts  he 
happened  to  be  informed,  now  stole  forward  with  a  large  pouch 
of  ammunition  upon  his  shoulder,  and  a  fire-arm  in  his  hand. 

"  These  savages  are  peaceably  disposed,"  said  Gardiner, 
suddenly.  "  I  have  no  doubt  on  the  subject.  Down  with  your 
piece,  you  mistake  me.  No  more  killing.  They  have  not  the 
least  appetite  for  gunpowder  remaining.  'T  is  much  more  to 
my  purpose  to  deal  gently  with  them.  They  respect  me  and 
fear  me ;  't  is  time  that  they  should  love  me.  Moreover,  I  recog 
nise  their  chief —  't  is  Sagamore  John,  as  well  disposed  a  fellow 
as  can  be  found  in  the  bay.  My  life  for  it,  he  comes  halfway  to 
welcome  me  as  soon  as  I  am  recognised." 

With  these  words  the  knight,  to  Morton's  profound  astonish 
ment,  left  the  cover  of  the  tree  with  his  matchlock  carelessly 
lying  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and  coolly  advanced  to  within 
fifty  yards  of  the  second  party  of  Indians,  who  had  been  stand 
ing  huddled  together  in  earnest  conversation  since  the  fall  of 
their  first  champion.  Half  a  dozen  bows  were  lifted  in  an 
instant,  half  a  dozen  arrows  were  drawn  to  the  head,  while 
Morton,  transfixed  with  wonder,  stood  gazing  at  the  incompre 
hensible  fool-hardiness  of  the  knight,  when  suddenly,  at  a  word 
of  command,  the  weapons  were  all  lowered,  and  the  chief  of  the 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


party  uttering  a  shrill  cry  of  recognition,  advanced  forward  to 
meet  the  Englishman,  proffering  his  hand,  and  making  a  hundred 
gestures  and  unintelligible  protestations  of  friendship. 

The  sagamore  was  a  young  man,  tall  and  well  limbed,  like 
most  of  their  other  warriors,  and  wore  a  variety  of  ingeniously 
painted  devices  upon  his  arms  and  bust.  A  robe  of  magnificent 
beaver  skins  hung  from  his  shoulder,  a  girdle  of  wampum  was 
around  his  waist,  and  he  held  a  tomahawk  in  his  hand.  Like 
all  the  other  savages  who  had  appeared  upon  the  scene,  he  was 
equipped  for  peace,  and  had  had  no  expectations  that  morning  of 
a  conflict  of  any  kind.  He  had  a  good-humored,  horse  face,  with 
an  expression  of  considerable  intelligence,  and  was  evidently  re 
garded  by  his  companions  with  perfect  respect.  This  was  Saga 
more  John,  a  petty  chieftain  of  a  small  body  of  natives  who 
inhabited  the  neighborhood  of  Mishawum,  and  who  were  all  sub 
jects  to  the  more  extensive  sovereignty  of  the  Squaw  Sachem  of 
the  Massachusetts. 

Between  this  potentate  and  the  knight,  there  had  for  a  long 
time  existed  relations  of  perfect  friendship  and  mutual  esteem. 
During  his  residence  in  the  Massachusetts,  Sir  Christopher  had 
ably  employed  the  long  period  of  apparent  inactivity  to  which 
the  slow  moving  and  somewhat  recalcitrating  operations  of  his 
confederates  in  England  had  condemned  him,  in  establishing  se 
cret  but  extensive  relations  of  amity  with  the  chiefs  of  all  the 
scattered  tribes  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  territory,  over  which 
he  eventually  contemplated  establishing  his  own  sovereignty. 
His  connections  with  them  were  widely  ramified,  and  managed 
with  the  adroitness  which  was  his  distinguishing  characteristic. 
The  sagamore  and  Sir  Christopher  exchanged  salutations. 
In  a  few  hurried  expressions,  which  were  inaudible  to  the  other 
parties,  and  by  a  careless  gesture  of  the  knight  towards  the  sav 
age  who  had  fallen  by  his  hand,  it  was  evident  that  he  had 
explained  his  own  part  in  the  transaction.  Desirous  of  investi- 


132  MERRY-MOUNT. 


gating  the  original  cause  of  the  affray,  he  seemed  willing  to  pro 
long  his  interview  with  the  sagamore.  All  appearances  of  hos 
tility  having  ceased  on  both  sides,  the  other  Indians  retired  by 
themselves  for  the  present  to  the  vicinity  of  the  wigwam,  where 
they  resumed  the  interrupted  preparations  for  their  feast;  while 
Morton  and  Walford  together  proceeded  to  liberate  the  two  cap 
tives  Bootefish  and  Doryfall,  and  then  withdrew  to  the  vicinity 
of  the  beach  to  hold  deliberation. 

"  Beshrew  me,"  said  the  blacksmith  to  the  knight,  "  but  you 
seem  marvellously  to  understand  yourself  with  my  friend  the 
sagamore  yonder.  A  man  of  pith  he  is,  and  no  skulker;  and 
by  the  beard  of  my  father,  I  would  not  have  valued  your  life  at  a 
farthing  when  you  marched  out  upon  them  just  now.  To  be 
sure,  their  arrows  be  mighty  clumsy  tools,"  continued  the  giant, 
who  had  been  amusing  himself,  since  the  cessation  of  hostilities, 
with  extracting  the  stone  points  of  the  darts,  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  had  inflicted  several  annoying  although  trifling  wounds 
upon  his  person  —  "  to  be  sure,  they  be  mighty  clumsy  tools,  un 
less  the  game  be  cocksparrows ;  and  look  ye,  I  be  something 
bigger  and  tougher  than  a  cocksparrovv,"  he  concluded,  con 
temptuously  tossing  the  weapons  which  had  galled  him  upon  the 
ground. 

"  Aye,"  said  Morton,  replying  in  the  careless  humor  which 
was  habitual  with  him,  to  the  observations  of  Walford,  which 
Gardiner,  engaged  in  colloquy  with  the  sachem,  did  not  appear 
to  heed.  "  Aye,  master  smith,  thou  seest  that  our  worthy 
friend  Sir  Christopher  is  even  more  closely  allied  to  his  highness 
Sagamore  John,  even  than  thy  gigantic  self.  The  devil  a  bit 
would  yonder  cocksparrow  archers  have  dropped  their  weapons 
at  thy  command,  or  even  at  mine,  suzerain  of  Passanogessit, 
though  they  know  know  me  to  be.  See  what  it  is  to  be  born 
with  the  jewel  of  command  in  your  eye,  as  a  beaver  with  a 
priceless  treasure  in  his  tail.  And  truly  this  Sagamore  John,  as 


MERRY-MOUNT.  333 


he  delights  to  style  himself — thanks  to  his  highness,  by  the  way, 
for  eschewing  his  savage  name,  which  would  crack  our  jaws 
worse  than  his  tomahawk  or  thy  sledge-hammer,  and  into  more 
pieces  than  it  hath  syllables  —  truly  John  is  a  very  agreeable 
young  man." 

"  Aye,"  answered  the  smith,  who  had  troubled  himself  but 
little  with  savage  pedigrees  or  politics,  "  't  is  as  pretty  a  fellow  in 
a  squabble  as  one  would  care  to  meet  with  of  a  summer's  day. 
A  great  chieftain  he  is,  to  be  sure,  and  the  Lord  of  all  these 
parts  I  believe  —  may  they  have  never  a  worse  one." 

"  Poll,  nonsense,  thou  most  careless  and  uninstructcd  giant," 
answered  Morton,  "thy  ignorance  of  the  genealogy  and  political 
history  of  the  tribes  among  whom  thou  hast  pitched  thy  tent, 
is  lamentable.  Know,  then,  that  yonder  dignified  red-skin, 
with  the  wholesome  name  of  John,  is  but  a  satrap,  a  prefect, 
under  the  mighty  personage  who  rules  these  savage  realms. 
Know  that  this  whole  country  of  the  Massachusetts  obeys  the 
sovereignty  of  an  illustrious  squaw.  This  squaw  sachem  is  the 
dowager  of  the  lamented  Nariepashemit,  or  the  New  Moon, 
which  New  Moon  being  brought  into  unlucky  conjunction  with 
certain  Tarrantine  tomahawks,  was  suddenly  eclipsed  somewhere 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1619.  He  left  behind  four  lesser  sate- 
lites,  three  sons  and  a  daughter  —  one  of  the  sons,  the  respectable 
young  man  now  before  us,  whose  pagan  name,  Wonohaquahan, 
I  will  for  once  venture  to  pronounce,  has  command  over  some 
twenty  or  thirty  warriors,  while  his  brothers  possess  a  similar  au 
thority  farther  towards  the  east,  but  the  dowager,  the  Saunks, 
hath  succeeded  to  the  throne,  and  exercises  despotic  sway  over 
her  sons  and  subjects." 

"  Master  smith,"  suddenly  interrupted  Gardiner,  turning 
from  the  sagamore,  "what  began  the  riot  this  morning?  That 
is  the  matter  to  be  looked  to  now." 

"  Faith,  Sir  Christopher,  the  devil  a  bit  can  I  instruct  you  on 

VOL.  I.  12 


134  MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  subject.  Four  drunken  vagabonds  of  the  pious  crew,  har 
bored  by  our  friend  Master  Morton  here,  paid  me  a  visit  this 
morning.  I  should  have  said  three  vagabonds,  for  yonder  Robin 
Bootefish  hath  this  day  borne  himself  so  like  a  man  of  mettle,  that 
he  shall  be  damned  before  he  hears  hard  names  again  from 
Thomas  Walford;  aye,  or  hard  knocks  either,"  said  the  smith, 
extending  his  hand  towards  the  doughty  butler.  That  indi 
vidual  who  by  a  kind  of  miracle  had  escaped  unwounded,  though 
marvellously  bruised,  from  his  various  adventures  that  morning, 
and  who  had  been  refreshing  himself  during  the  interval  afforded 
by  the  historical  disquisition  of  Morton,  with  a  quiet  nap  in  the 
sun,  had  aroused  himself  at  the  voice  of  the  blacksmith,  and  now 
listened  with  gratification  to  this  encomium  upon  his  conduct. 

"  Thanks  to  you,  worthy  Goodman  Walford,"  said  he  with 
stately  but  sincere  cordiality,  as  he  arose  from  his  recumbent 
position,  and  extended  a  hand  to  the  blacksmith. 

"  Thanks  to  you,  master  blacksmith,  and  truly  I  be  well 
pleased  that  the  individual  whom  you  chose  to  honor  with  the 
name  of  lobster,  and  mayhap  to  handle  somewhat  more  roughly 
than  was  necessary,  one  fine  morning,  hath  had  opportunity  to 
show  the  stuff  he  be  made  of." 

As  the  butler  paused  for  breath,  Gardiner,  who  had  become 
impatient  at  this  effusion  of  sentiment  on  the  part  of  the  butler 
and  smith,  now  repeated  his  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
conflict. 

"  If  your  worship,  Master  Morton,  will  allow,"  resumed  the 
butler,  "  I  can  explain  to  Sir  Christopher  the  whole  of  the  mat 
ter  in  about  six  words." 

"  Out  with  it,  man,"  said  Sir  Christopher  impatiently,  "  me- 
thinks  it  needs  no  urging." 

"  Well,  then,  know  your  worship,"  said  the  butler,  "  that  the 
whole  cause  of  this  little  riot  with  the  red-breeches  is  all  along 
of  Peter  Cakebread.  He  be  a  mischievous,  idle  varlet,  as  your 


MERRY-MOUNT.  135 


honor  knows,  ready  to  get  a  friend  into  trouble,  and  willing  to 
let  him  get  out  of  it  for  himself.  Now  you  see,  this  Master 
Cakebrcad,  as  we  landed  from  our  boats  at  Mishawum  this 
morning,  chanced  to  find  a  canoe  belonging  to  these  very  red- 
breeches  snugly  lying  in  the  cove." 

"  I  knew  there  was  knavery  at  the  beginning,"  cried  Morton. 

"  There  was  a  mighty  bag  of  corn-meal  in  the  boat,"  contin 
ued  Bootefish,  "  and  your  worship  knows  that  the  devil  a  pinch 
of  meal  or  flour  has  been  at  Merry-Mount  these  three  months. 
There  were  also  several  measures  of  dried  beans  besides.  Now 
what  does  my  gentleman,  Master  Cakebread,  but  takes  me  this 
very  bag  of  meal  and  these  very  dry  beans,  and  pops  me  them 
into  our  boat,  saying  that  we  would  have  bread  enow  for  May 
day  at  Merry-Mount,  or  the  devil  was  in  it.  I  reproved  him  for 
it,  your  honor,  and  called  him  a  vile  thief.  This  made  him 
laugh,  hardened  sinner  that  as  he  is,  and  without  more  ado,  he 
shoved  the  empty  canoe  out  upon  the  water,  as  if  it  was  not 
enow  to  steal  the  contents  thereof.  As  we  were  squabbling 
among  ourselves,  the  red-breeches,  who  had  from  the  hill-top 
discovered  their  canoe  floating  off  into  the  bay,  came  down  upon 
us,  shrieking  like  devils,  before  we  had  put  off  in  our  skiff.  As 
soon  as  they  discovered  Peter's  knavery,  you  may  be  sure  that 
they  screamed  and  yelled  all  the  louder.  Now  what  does  my 
little  Canary  Bird,  when  we  found  ourselves  beset,  but  drop  on 
his  face  and  pipe  for  mercy.  As  for  Peter  Cakebread,  the  cause 
of  all  the  mischief,  why  the  devil  even  lent  him  his  own  wings, 
to  fly  away  withal,  for  how  else  he  could  make  his  escape  as  he 
did,  clean  over  the  heads  of  us  all,  Christians  and  pagans, 
friends  and  foes,  is  more  than  Robert  Bootefish  can  tell  you.  In 
the  midst  of  our  tussle  upon  the  plain,  up  comes  Goodman 
Walford,  and  the  rest  is  known  to  your  worship." 

The  worthy  butler  concluded  his  harangue,  which,  without 
more  circumlocution  than  was  to  have  been  expected,  had  at 


]36  MERRY-MOUNT. 


last  instructed  Morton  and  the  knight  as  to  the  real  cause  of  the 
quarrel,  by  a  beaming  glance  of  affection  directed  towards  the 
smith. 

"And  now,  where  is  this  skulking  Cakebread?"  said  the 
knight,  "  the  culprit  is  known,  and  must  be  found  and  punished. 
Master  Morton,  I  shall  insist  upon  an  exemplary  chastisement  as 
the  only  means  of  satisfying  the  savages'  sense  of  justice." 

"Right  as  Rhadamanthus,"  answered  Morton,  "but  where 
has  the  knave  bestowed  himself?" 

"  I  have  already  told  thee,  Master  Morton,"  interrupted  the 
smith,  "  that  the  creature  hath  been  seen  by  me  in  the  midst  of 
the  squabble.  Flying  in  the  air  he  was,  like  an  imp  of  the  old 
one,  for  Satan  protects  his  children.  But  if  he  be  any  where 
outside  the  hottest  cauldron  in  Beelzebub's  kitchen,  you'll  find 
him  upon  yonder  oak.  Take  him  an'  ye  will,  but  by  the  Lord,  I 
would  not  singe  my  fingers  with  his  carcase  to  please  the  best 
Christian  in  the  bay." 

While  the  smith  was  speaking,  the  knight  had  already  ad 
vanced  to  the  oak  under  which  the  blacksmith  had  received  the 
aerial  communications  from  the  offending  Cakebread.  The  rest 
of  the  party  followed  him,  and  soon  became  aware  of  the  pres 
ence  of  the  luckless  culprit,  who  ensconced  among  the  topmost 
branches  of  the  tree,  sat  grinning  at  them  in  defiance,  and  obsti 
nately  refusing  to  obey  the  knight's  order  to  descend  from  his 
pinnacle,  from  a  very  shrewd  suspicion  of  the  treatment  he  was 
likely  to  meet  with. 

"  I  knew  we  should  find  the  culprit  at  last,"  exclaimed  Mor 
ton.  "  Cakebread,  Peter  Cakebread,  thy  sins  must  be  atoned 
for,  and  that  speedily.  Of  this  thou  mightest  have  been  sure, 
ere  thou  becamest  a  corn-stealer,  for  punishment,  sooner  or 
later,  surety  overtaketh  the  guilty.  WJiat  says  my  friend  Flaccus 
upon  this  point? 

'  Raro  antecedentem  scelestum 
Deseruit  pede  Pcena  claudo.' 


MERRY-MOUNT.  ]37 


Which  for  thy  better  apprehension  is,  '  Punishment  with  her 
club-foot,  will  yet  overtake  the  nimblest  and  most  thievish 
baboon.'  Have  the  kindness,  then,  to  come  down  and  be 
whipped.  —  'Valet  ima  summis  mutare.'  Leave  thy  infernal 
mopping  and  mowing  and  descend." 

Master  Cakebread,  however,  seemed  little  inclined  to  obey  the 
behest  of  his  lie^c  lord  and  sovereign,  and  remained  in  his 

O  £3      J 

elevated  position,  looking  very  malicious,  very  obstinate,  and 
very  much  frightened  withal. 

The  knight  became  now  very  impatient,  and  shouted  to  him 
in  a  voice  whose  peremptory  tones  seemed  to  produce  an  instan 
taneous  effect  upon  the  culprit. 

"I  tell  thee  to  descend  from  the  tree,  and  that  instantly,  thou 
misbegotten  child  of  Satan  ;  it  were  better  for  thee  to  obey  my 
commands  without  hesitation;  for  I  swear  to  thee  if  thou  palter- 
est  with  me  ten  seconds  longer,  the  tree  shall  be  felled  to  the 
ground,  and  thyself  delivered  over  to  the  savages  whom  thou  hast 
plundered,  to  be  dealt  with  according  to  their  pleasure.  Obey 
me  instantly  and  thou  shall  be  chastised,  indeed,  but  thou  shalt 
be  protected  from  the  vengeance  of  the  Indians." 

This  last  threat,  or  rather  the  mixtures  of  threats  and  prom 
ises,  seemed  to  have  its  effect  upon  the  culprit.  He  began 
slowly  to  descend  from  the  summit  of  the  tree,  and  when  he 
had  reached  the  lowermost  branch  of  all,  he  sat  himself  quietly 
down  for  a  moment,  at  about  ten  feet  elevation  above  their 
heads,  and  seemed  disposed  to  enter  into  a  parley  with  the 
imperious  knight. 

"  Worthy  and  most  valiant  Sir  Christopher,"  he  began  in  a 
fawning  and  suppliant  manner,  "thou  knowest  that  bread  is  the 
staff  of  life,  and  that " 

"  Now  by  St.  John,"  cried  the  knight  in  a  towering  passion, 
"  if  thou  darest  to  utter  one  single  word  of  expostulation,  or 
delayest  one  single  second  longer  thy  descent  to  the  ground,  I 
12* 


138  MERRY-MOUNT. 


swear  I  will  shoot  thee  as  I  would  a  fox,  and  give  thy  carcase  to 
the  Indians  in  exchange  for  their  poor  devils  who  have  been 
knocked  on  the  head  in  consequence  of  thy  misdemeanor." 

As  he  spoke,  the  knight  lifted  his  matchlock  to  his  shoulder, 
and  deliberately  covered  the  body  of  the  trembling  culprit. 
Cakebread  knowing  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  and  finding  Sir 
Christopher  thus  indisposed  to  trifle,  made  no  more  ado,  but 
turning  a  sumerset,  which  did  honor  to  his  early  education,  he 
alighted  upon  his  feet  in  the  very  midst  of  the  group,  wearing  a 
ludicrous  expression  of  mingled  fear,  malice,  and  curiosity  upon 
his  wizzened  features. 

The  knight  seized  him  by  the  throat  in  an  instant,  arid  then 
making  a  sign  to  Rednape  and  Bootefish  to  approach,  he  handed 
the  culprit  to  them,  with  orders  to  bind  him  closely  with  a  cord 
which  Rednape  held  in  his  hands. 

The  unfortunate  Cakebread  fell  upon  his  knees,  for  he  be 
lieved  that  the  knight  had  determined  to  execute  him  at  once 
without  judge  or  jury,  by  suspending  him  to  the  branch  of  the 
tree  which  hung  so  conveniently  a  few  feet  above  his  head. 
The  frightened  culprit  fell  upon  his  knees  and  roared  for 
mercy. 

"  Have  compassion  upon  me,  thou  most  humane  and  puissant 
knight,  and  thou,  too,  my  honored  lord  and  sovereign,  most 
worshipful  Master  Morton,"  he  cried,  with  his  teeth  chattering 
as  he  spoke  ;  "truly  have  I  done  nothing  but  abstract  a  little 
superfluous  provender  from  the  savages.  I  did  but  forage  upon 
the  enemy  as  a  Christian  warrior  should.  Bread  is  the  staff  of 
life,  and  for  the  lack  of  it  must  we  die,  and  yet  be  hanged  for 
procuring  it  ?  " 

"  Gag  the  cowardly  driveller,"  said  the  knight  impatiently  to 
Bootefish  and  Rednape;  "and  know,  thou  unlucky  and  most 
thievish  imp,  that  there  is  no  question  of  hanging.  Chastised  thou 
shalt  be  ;  whipped,  and  that  soundly,  to  appease  the  vengeance  of 


MERRY-MOUNT.  139 

the  Indians,  and  to  furnish  them  an  additional  proof  of  the  justice 
that  Englishmen  know  how  to  render,  even  when  their  own 
countrymen  must  bear  the  pain  and  the  shame.  Master  Mor 
ton,  have  the  kindness  to  summon  the  savages  from  yonder 
wigwam." 

"  Willingly,  Sir  Kit,"  answered  Morton,  "  but  permit  me 
before  I  do  so  to  make  a  suggestion,  — Is  it  certain  that  it  would 
not  be  better  to  hang  the  culprit—  —  ?  " 

Here  the  unfortunate  Cakebread  struggled  violently  to  speak, 
and  to  throw  himself  upon  his  knees,  but  the  gag  and  cords 
prevented,  and  Morton  proceeded, — 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  hang  the  culprit,  or  at  least  a 
culprit?  If  Cakebread  be  too  valuable  a  subject  for  me  to  lose, 
and  I  confess  his  many  excellent  social  qualities  have  en 
deared  him  very  much  to  the  society  of  Merry-Mount,  why  I  am 
not  sure  that  I  could  not  find  among  the  more  aged  and  weather- 
beaten  veterans  of  the  crew,  a  worthy  substitute  for  the  gallows. 
There  is  a  fellow  in  my  mind  just  now,  a  huge  feeder,  who 
dwells  at  Merry-Mount,  and  hath  done  so  for  years,  who  is  old, 
blind,  deaf,  and  altogether  of  no  value  to  me  or  to  any  body; 
what  sayest  thou,  Sir  Kit,  suppose  we  discharge  Master  Cakebread 
from  custody  and  send  forthwith  for  my  venerable  friend  and 
hang  him  vicariously  to  yonder  branch,  in  presence  of  the 
savages?  My  life  for  it,  they  will  be  most  salutarily  impressed 
by  so  imposing  a  spectacle." 

"  Tush,  Morton,"  said  Gardiner,  who,  although  impatient  at 
this  delay  in  executing  his  orders,  treated  the  Sachem  of  Merry- 
Mount,  as  he  always  did  even  in  his  most  whimsical  moments, 
with  considerable  deference.  "  Tush,  Morton,  thou  triflest  too 
unseasonably  ;  I  have  determined,  that  although  this  actual 
offence  be  not  very  grave  in  amount,  yet  that  this  practice  of 
pilfering  by  white  men  upon  Indians  is  likely  to  bring  us  into 
contempt,  and  that  it  is  necessary  to  make  an  example  of  this 


140  MERRY-MOUNT. 


fellow,  who,  as  thou  hast  thyself  informed  me,  has  been  guilty 
of  such  tricks  before.  He -must  be  chastised  in  presence  of  the 
Indians,  and  that  at  once." 

Cakebread,  who,  in  spite  of  his  cords,  had  contrived  to  execute 
a  hampered  dance  of  rapture,  and  to  emit  certain  smothered 
and  unnatural  sounds  indicative  of  his  intense  delight  at  Mor 
ton's  proposition,  and  his  unqualified  approval  of  this  project  of 
a  vicarious  punishment,  now  received  a  smart  rap  on  the  head 
from  Bootefish,  to  induce  a  more  reverential  demeanor,  while  Sir 
Christopher  continued, — 

"  If  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  call  yonder  savages  to 
gether,  and  will  simply  appoint  your  servant  Bootefish  yonder  to 
the  temporary  office  of  executioner,  I  will,  without  farther  delay, 
see  that  a  proper  chastisement  is  meted  out  to  this  culprit,  which 
will  be  sufficient  as  an  example,  but  which  will  hardly  prevent 
him  from  fulfilling  his  duties  as  principal  buffoon,  so  long  as  he 
can  find  greater  fools  than  himself  to  laugh  at  his  folly." 

"  Robertus  Bootefish!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Morton,  upon 
finding  by  the  knight's  determined  manner,  that  the  matter  must 
be  forthwith  settled,  — "  Robertus  Bootefish,  thou  art  hereby 
authorized  by  the  command  of  thy  suzerain,  to  take  upon  thy 
self,  in  addition  to  thy  other  responsible  offices  of  butler,  pre 
centor,  and  head  clerk,  the  dignity  of  carnifex  maximus,  which 
is  in  the  vernacular,  head  executioner,  not  only  for  the  present 
but  for  all  future  time,  and  thou  art  hereby  instructed  to  hold 
thyself  in  readiness  to  execute  the  penalty  of  the  law  according 
to  the  behest  of  the  illustrious  knight,  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner, 
upon  the  body  of  the  culprit,  Petrus  Panificium,  or,  in  the 
vulgar,  Peter  Cakebread,  upon  this  very  spot  and  at  this  very 
moment  of  time.  Dixi." 

The  worthy  Bootefish,  who  had  been  well  aware  of  the  result 
towards  which  all  this  parley  was  tending,  and  who  was  nothing 
loth  to  inflict  upon  the  sneaking  comrade  who  had  well  nigh, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  14  j 


through  his  knavery,  cost  him  his  life,  a  proper  chastisement, 
which  he  regarded  as  rather  due  to  his  unmanly  tlight  from  the 
battle-field  than  for  the  larceny,  had  already  prepared  a  formida 
ble  whip,  and  now  came  forward  with  considerable  alacrity  in 
obedience  to  the  order  of  his  august  master. 

The  savages  were  immediately  summoned,  and  squatted  them 
selves  gravely  upon  their  hams,  forming  a  circle  around  their 
chief,  who  received  from  Morton  and  Gardiner  a  rapid  and 
succinct  account  of  the  matter  from  the  beginning  to  the  end, 
and  expressed  himself  thoroughly  satisfied  with  the  penalty  pro 
posed.  The  luckless  Cakebread  was  then  unbound  and  led 
forward  by  Rednape  and  the  Canary  Bird  into  the  centre  of  the 
circle,  when  he  dropped  upon  his  knees  and  with  chattering 
teeth  and  streaming  eyes  made  a  full  confession  of  his  guilt,  ac 
companied  by  many  whining  appeals  for  mercy.  lie  was,  how 
ever,  promptly  condemned  to  receive  forty  lashes  immediately; 
and  although  his  fears  had  perhaps  anticipated  a  far  more  fearful 
penalty,  he  again  attempted  by  a  variety  of  hideous  howls,  to 
obtain  a  mitigation  of  punishment.  Finding  all  his  efforts  in 
vain,  after  casting  an  imploring  but  ineffectual  look  at  Morton, 
he  permitted  himself  to  be  seized  by  Rednape  and  Dory  full.  As 
soon,  however,  as  they  had  taken  him  by  the  arms,  he  dropped 
heavily  upon  the  ground,  affecting  to  have  fallen  into  a  swoon, 
and  lay  motionless  and  apparently  as  senseless  as  a  log.  At  a 
look  from  Gardiner,  Bootefish  advanced  to  assist  the  others  and 
they  then  lifted  him  from  the  earth  in  their  arms,  where  he  lay 
like  a  man,  from  whom  all  the  bones  had  been  suddenly  ex 
tracted,  with  his  lithe  and  supple  frame  swaying  and  twisting  in 
every  direction  like  a  dead  serpent.  As  they  carried  him  past 
Gardiner,  however,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  directed  one  demo 
niac  glance  of  mingled  fear,  rage  and  hatred,  which  was  worthy 
of  the  countenance  of  a  fiend,  and  which  might  have  inspired  a 
more  susceptible  mind  than  the  knight's  with  a  sensation  of 


142  MERRY-MOUNT. 


terror.  Sir  Christopher,  however,  appeared  not  even  to  observe 
the  expression  of  the  imp  whose  hatred  he  was  at  that  moment 
incurring,  and  who,  contemptible  as  he  seemed,  possessed 
venom  and  determination  sufficient  to  inflict  a  signal  vengeance 
upon  the  author  of  his  punishment,  if  the  opportunity  should 
occur. 

The  abject  creature  was  now  tied  by  the  neck  and  shoulders 
to  a  young  hickory,  and  the  forty  lashes  were  laid  on  with  a 
hearty  good-will,  and  with  solemn  composure,  by  Bootefish. 
The  first  stroke  aroused  the  culprit  from  his  affected  torpor,  and 
elicited  a  howl  which  resounded  among  the  wooded  crags  of  the 
surrounding  wilderness.  At  the  second  he  began  to  dance 
about  with  extraordinary  vivacity,  and  throughout  the  whole 
chastisement  he  performed  a  series  of  wonderful  gyrations  about 
the  tree,  accompanied  with  frantic  but  unsuccessful  struggles  to 
escape  from  his  bonds.  When  the  last  blow  had  been  struck, 
and  the  echo  of  the  last  howl  had  died  away  among  the  cliffs  of 
Mishawum,  the  savages,  at  Gardiner's  request,  were  drawn  up 
in  a  double  line,  the  cords  which  secured  the  culprit  were  un 
bound,  and  he  was  ordered  in  conclusion  to  run  the  gauntlet 
through  them,  and  to  receive  a  swinging  thwack  from  every 
one  of  them  as  he  passed.  As  soon,  however,  as  he  was  libe 
rated,  he  dropped  again  like  a  torpid  snake  upon  the  earth,  and 
appeared  entirely  inanimate  from  the  effects  of  his  punishment; 
upon  Gardner's  stirring  his  prostrate  carcase  with  his  foot,  how 
ever,  and  threatening  him  with  an  additional  allowance  of  stripes 
upon  the  failure  of  instant  obedience,  he  jumped  upon  his  legs 
and  proceeded  cautiously  to  the  head  of  the  line.  Here,  as  he 
was  attempting  to  steal  quietly  by  the  first  post  of  danger,  he  was 
received  by  a  hearty  knock  from  the  flat  side  of  a  hatchet;  when, 
suddenly  recovering  his  powers,  as  if  by  enchantment,  and 
exerting  the  whole  of  his  extraordinary  muscular  agility,  he 
bounded  into  the  air,  threw  a  somerset  clean  over  the  heads  of 


MERRY-MOUNT.  143 


his  enemies,  and  then  fled  swiftly  across  the  plain.  At  the  com 
mand  of  their  chief,  the  savages  desisted  from  the  pursuit  which 
they  had  at  once  commenced ;  and  all  parties  being  thoroughly 
satisfied  with  the  penalty  inflicted,  and  with  the  general  result 
of  the  morning's  operations,  they  severally  dispersed  to  their 
respective  destinations. 


144  MERRY-MOUNT. 


C  HAPT  ER     XII. 

TWILIGHT    MYSTERIES. 

LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  Esther  Ludlow,  who 
was  walking  alone  very  near  her  own  door,  was  surprised  to  see 
the  tall  figure  of  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  crossing  the  glade 
and  approaching  the  house.  The  knight  appeared  no  longer  in 
the  gay  attire  which  he  had  worn  in  the  morning  and  throughout 
the  scenes  in  which  we  have  found  him  engaged,  but  appeared 
again  in  the  sad-colored  suit,  and  wearing  the  steeple-crowned 
hat  which  marked  the  Puritan.  His  demeanor  and  bearing 
were  no  less  altered,  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  the 
keenest  observer  to  have  discovered  in  the  grave  and  measured 
deportment,  the  meek  and  gentle  voice,  and  the  calm  and  some 
what  melancholy  countenance  of  the  personage  who  was  now 
exchanging  salutations  with  Esther  Ludlow,  any  trace  of  the  mnn 
of  action  whom  we  left  so  lately  upon  the  plain  of  Mishawum. 

"  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  intrude  once  more  upon  your 
presence,"  said  he,  with  a  demure  glance  at  Esther,  which  was 
quickly  withdrawn  as  her  eyes  met  his  own,  "  because,  since  I 
last  parted  from  you  I  have  received  letters,  which  confirm  the 
tidings  which  you  somewhat  briefly  imparted  to  me,  the  last 
time  we  met.  Believing  that  in  all  probability  your  own  dis 
patches  might  not  yet  have  been  delivered,  I  have  come  to 
proffer  whatever  information  I  may  have  obtained  for  your  own 
use." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy,"  replied  Esther  coldly,  for 
she  was  not  too  well  pleased  with  the  knight's  visit,  and  felt  a 
strange  trouble,  she  knew  not  why,  at  his  presence ;  "  I  thank 


MERRY-MOUNT.  145 


you  respectfully,  but  the  letters  which  have  been  delivered  to  my 
brother  and  myself  from  our  friends  in  England,  have  fully 
instructed  us  as  to  the  course  of  events  in  England,  and  as  to 
the  particular  details  of  the  matters  most  interesting  to  the 
dwellers  in  the  wilderness." 

"  Then  I  have  only  to  express  to  you,"  replied  the  knight, 
my  sincere  congratulations  at  the  auspicious  tidings.  Before 
another  three  months  shall  have  elapsed,  we  may  hope  to  see  the 
commencement  of  a  religious  settlement,  the  laying  of  the 
corner-stone  of  a  permanent  asylum  for  the  persecuted.  I  know 
how  much  of  pure  and  sublime  happiness  such  an  event  must 
excite  in  your  breast.  I  sincerely  trust  that  you  will  not  be 
offended  that  a  lonely  and  unworthy  wayfarer  like  myself,  ven 
tures  to  express  to  you  his  sympathy  with  a  cause  which  he 
knows  to  be  nearest  to  your  heart." 

"  It  lies  doubtless  very  near  to  my  heart,"  replied  Esther, 
who  was  somewhat  softened  to  the  stranger  by  his  apparently 
fervid  interest  in  the  cause  to  which  she  had  devoted  herself,  but 
whose  mind,  pre-occupied  at  that  moment  by  deep  and  melan 
choly  regrets  at  the  recent  demeanor  of  her  absent  lover,  was 
but  little  open  to  any  strong  impression  from  the  language  of  the 
man  who  was  now  addressing  her.  "  It  lies  doubtless  very  near 
to  my  heart,  and  I  am  truly  impatient  that  the  expected  ships 
should  arrive.  Still  my  mind  at  times  misgives  rne,  whether 
obstacles  may  not,  after  all,  occur  during  these  troublous  times, 
which  may  make  their  endeavors  fruitless." 

"Not  so,  believe  me,"  answered  her  companion,  who,  as  will 
be  explained  hereafter,  had  already  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the 
line  of  conduct  he  was  to  pursue  for  the  present,  having  now 
received  the  instructions  which  he  had  been  so  eagerly  expecting 
from  his  confederates  in  England.  "  I  have  reason  to  believe 
that  the  good  work  is  likely  to  go  on  and  prosper.  Such  is  the 
tenor  of  the  advices  which  I  have  received  from  my  own  friends, 

VOL.  i.  13 


146  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  such,  doubtless,  must  be  the  hopes  held  forth  in  your  cor 
respondence." 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  answered  Esther,  whose  manner  became 
distant  again,  in  spite  of  herself,  as  she  found  the  knight  desir 
ous  of  protracting  the  interview  without  any  apparent  cause. 
"  Our  enemies  in  England  are  powerful  and  malignant,  and  I 
fear  they  may  send  emissaries  to  the  wilderness  to  impede  our 
cherished  work." 

"  But  the  friends  of  the  colony  at  home  are  powerful  and 
influential,"  replied  the  knight,  who  was  gazing  with  a  look  of 
undisguised  admiration  at  the  fair  face  of  his  companion.  He 
checked  himself  suddenly,  however,  and  remembering  that  pas 
sionate  words  and  bold  glances  but  ill  comported  with  the  stern 
and  grave  character  which  he  had  assumed,  he  added  in  an  altered 
tone,  "  Believe  me  when  I  assure  you  that  you  have  but  little  to 
fear  from  the  machinations  of  the  enemies  whom  you  deem  so 
powerful.  As  to  the  emissaries  to  whom  you  allude,  I  doubt 
very  much  their  existence ;  certainly  I  have  found  but  few 
persons  in  whose  sincere  attachment  to  our  great  religious 
enterprise,  I  could  not  confide  as  much  as  in  my  own." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Esther,  who  was  still  more  and  more 
desirous  to  terminate  the  interview  with  the  mysterious  person 
age,  who  inspired  her  with  an  unaccountable  feeling  of  distrust, 
but  unwilling  to  be  absolutely  discourteous  to  a  man  whom  she 
knew  her  brother  regarded  with  respect,  —  "I  fear  me  that, 
among  the  wild  and  lawless  spirits  who  inhabit  the  south-western 
coasts  of  Massachusetts,  there  be  many  who  are  both  evil 
wishers  and  evil  doers.  Strange  tales  reach  our  ears,  of  godless 
and  profane  ribaldry  in  those  regions,  which  would  be  in  itself 
sufficient  to  bring  a  curse  and  a  desolation  upon  the  land." 

"  If  you  speak  of  the  rioters  and  worthless  revellers  of 
Passanogessit,"  answered  Gardiner,  "  you  may  dismiss  any  fears 
as  to  evil  influence  from  such  a  source ;  believe  me,  that  crew  of 


MERRY-MOUNT.  147 


outcasts  is  too  contemptible  and  too  insignificant  in  every 
manner,  to  merit  a  thought.  They  will  be  swept  away  like  the 
foul  and  noisome  rnists  of  the  morass  yonder,  before  the  clear 
sunlight  of  religion  which  is  so  soon  to  rise  upon  this  benighted 
land.  Let  but  your  brave  and  energetic  people  arrive,  and.  you 
will  see  them  shrink  away  like  owls,  and  bats,  and  foul  things, 
which  fear  the  light  of  day.  Profane  not,  beautiful  Esther 
Ludlow,"  added  the  knight  with  another  look  of  earnest  and 
irrepressible,  but  respectful  admiration,  "  profane  not  your 
serene  thoughts,  by  allowing  them  to  wander  to  subjects  so 
infinitely  below  your  own  exalted  sphere." 

The  passionate  glances  of  the  knight  fell  upon  the  beautiful 
Puritan  as  harmlessly  as  tropical  sunshine  upon  a  marble  statue. 
With  a  cold  and  unembarrassed  look,  which  almost  disconcerted 
him,  she  replied,  — 

"  I  am  willing  to  receive  your  account  of  them,  Sir  Knight, 
and  to  participate  in  the  hopefulness  with  which  you  seem  to 
regard  the  undertaking  of  which  we  were  speaking,  but  the  air 
is  growing  chill  and  the  evening  is  approaching.  I  regret  that 
my  brother's  absence  must  make  me  appear  uncourteous,  in  not 
inviting  you  to  partake  of  the  humble  hospitality  of  our  roof, 
and  I  must  even  crave  your  permission  to  retire." 

Gardiner  wras  not  the  man  to  be  abashed  by  a  repulse  as 
decided  as  this  seemed  to  be,  and  he  still  lingered  at  the  door 
step,  ready  and  yet  reluctant  to  take  leave;  thus  detaining,  for  a 
few  moments,  his  companion,  who  was  naturally  unwilling  to 
withdraw  into  the  house  until  he  had  departed. 

It  was  a  strange  but  not  unaccountable  attraction,  which  had 
exerted  so  sudden  an  influence  upon  the  knight's  imagination. 
It  should,  moreover,  be  never  lost  sight  of,  that  although  the 
scenery  of  this  tale  is  found  in  the  stern  deserts  of  New  Eng 
land,  yet  that  the  actors  were  all  Europeans,  born  and  reared 
among  all  the  influences  of  an  ancient  civilization,  and  sub- 


148  MERRY-MOUNT. 


jected  to  all  the  conflicting,  turbulent  and  chequered  sentiments, 
motives,  and  passions,  which  beset  human  nature  when  de 
veloped  under  the  exciting  atmosphere  of  a  high  social  culture. 
Such  almost  wilful  contrasts  are  not  the  least  remarkable  features 
in  the  singular  scene  presented  upon  the  opening  pages  of  New 
England's  chronicle. 

"  I  purpose  visiting  our  brethren  at  New  Plymouth  very 
shortly,"  said  he,  as  he  found  Esther  determined  to  abridge  their 
interview,  "  and  I  should  be  well  pleased  if  in  aught  I  could  be 
serviceable  to  you.  I  have  tarried  long  enough  among  them,  to 
know  that  you  have  heaped  upon  your  head  the  blessings  of 
those  who  were  nigh  to  perish,  and  that  your  departure  has  been 
bitterly  lamented  by  the  poorer  of  the  brethren  and  their  fami 
lies  in  that  sterile  spot  of  earth.  Is  there  naught  in  which  I 
can  be  useful  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy/*  said  Esther ,  advancing  a 
few  steps  towards  him,  "  for  I  do  remember  me,  that  there  is  a 
family  there  which  truly  demands  my  care.  A  certain  weaver 
from  Stiffolkshire,  who  emigrated  to  these  shores  during  the  past 
year,  and  who  has  been  sojourning  at  New  Plymouth,  is,  I 
believe,  still  tarrying  there.  He  is  feeble  in  health,  and  not 
overburdened  with  capacity  for  this  wilderness  work.  Commend 
me  to  him,  and  advise  him,  in  my  name,  to  tarry  still  a  little 
with  the  brethren  of  Plymouth.  Delays  still  attend  the  enter 
prise  of  the  settlement  at  Naurnkeak.  He  must  at  this  time  be 
suffering  many  pangs  of  poverty,  and  perhaps  illness,  for  he  has 
a  considerable  family.  Sir  Knight,  I  shall  even  accept  your 
courteous  offer,  and  entreat  you  to  convey  to  this  poor  weaver, 
whose  name  is  Mellowes,  a  small  token  of  my  remembrance, 
with  an  assurance  of  my  continued  interest  in  his  welfare." 

Esther  went  into  the  house  for  a  moment,  and  presently  re 
turned.  "  There  are  a  very  few  gold  pieces  in  this  purse,"  said 
she,  extending  it  to  him,  "  but  they  are  all  which  are  at  present 


MERRY-MOUNT.  149 


at  my  command,  and  more  than  sufficient  to  save  my  poor 
friends  from  absolute  starvation.  If,  however,  want  should  con 
tinue  to  press  upon  them,  they  may  be  able  to  procure  the 
necessaries  of  life  by  means  of  this  useless  gaud,  which  I  pray 
you  to  convey  to  the  Goodwife  Mellowes,  with  the  assurance 
that  the  trifling  gewgaw  is  not  sent  to  be  worn  as  a  piece  of 
worldly  apparel,  but  to  be  exchanged  for  the  necessaries  of  life, 
when  they  shall  find  themselves  sorely  beset." 

As  Esther  spoke,  she  took  from  her  neck  a  heavy  gold  chain 
which  she  wore  studiously  concealed  beneath  the  folds  of  her 
folds  of  her  garments,  and  delivered  it  to  the  knight. 

"  And  now  Sir  Knight,"  she  concluded,  "  once  more  imploring 
your  pardon  for  my  withdrawal,  I  shall  even  bid  you  farewell." 

She  entered  the  humble  cottage  as  she  spoke,  and  closed  the 
door  behind  her.  The  knight  stood  stock  still  for  a  moment, 
gazing  enraptured  at  her  retiring  figure.  He  then  advanced  a 
few  steps  across  the  glade,  when  he  suddenly  paused  and  leaned 
musingly  against  the  trunk  of  an  oak  which  stood  on  the  vero-e 

S3    J         &  a 

of  the  forest.  He  lifted  the  chain  to  his  lips,  and  kissed  it  pas 
sionately  many  times,  and  then  fastened  it  round  his  neck.  As 
he  did  so,  a  smile  of  indefinite  triumph  shone  for  an  instant 
across  his  dark  features. 

The  brown  shadows  of  evening  were  fast  descending  upon 
the  landscape,  and  objects  were  already  growing  indistinct  in 
the  twilight.  The  knight  still  leaned  against  the  tree,  lost  in  a 
vague  but  delicious  reverie.  He  believed  himself  alone  in  that 
wilderness,  but  he  was  wrong.  Within  a  few  paces  of  him,  but 
concealed  by  the  heavy  branches  of  the  very  tree  against  which 
he  was  leaning,  stood  the  dusky  figure  of  a  man.  He  stood  with 
his  eyes  glaring  fearfully  upon  the  knight,  his  hand  clench 
ing  a  naked  rapier,  his  breath  suspended,  and  his  features 
and  whole  frame  convulsed  by  fierce,  but  resolutely  suppressed 
emotion.  The  man  who  stood  in  ambush  there  was  no  savage, 
13* 


150  MERRY-MOUNT. 


although  he  was  thirsting  for  the  heart's  blood  of  his  enemy, 
and  was  delaying  with  an  almost  voluptuous  sensation  of  hatred, 
the  moment  of  gratification,  which  fate  seemed  at  last  to  have 
placed  within  his  reach.  That  man  was  Henry  Maudsley.  He 
had  arrived  at  the  spot  a  few  moments  before,  with  his  heart 
filled  with  regret  and  remorse  for  what  had  seemed  to  him  in  his 
cooler  moments,  the  unjust  and  unworthy  suspicion  which  had 
fastened  so  uncontrollably  upon  his  soul  at  his  last  interview 
with  Esther. 

After  that  last  interview  he  had  been  hardly  able  to  explain  even 
to  himself  the  sudden  and  stormy  passions  which  had  overflowed 
his  heart  like  a  torrent,  when  he  first  learned  the  existence  of 
what  he  believed  to  be  an  intimacy  between  the  knight  and  his 
beloved.  From  that  moment  a  demon  seemed  to  have  assumed 
dominion  over  him,  and  he  had  struggled  in  vain  against  the 
fearful  influence.  He  had,  however,  during  the  many  solitary 
hours  of  absence  which  had  passed  since  he  had  left  Esther  so 
deeply  wounded  as  his  unseemly  outbreak  of  anger  and  jealousy, 
found  a  little  time  to  reflect  upon  his  conduct  and  situation. 
Although  still  unable  to  shake  off  the  indistinct  fears  which 
weighed  like  lead  upon  his  spirit,  he  had,  however,  schooled 
himself  into  believing  that  he  was  perhaps  the  victim  of  his  own 
imagination,  and  had  so  far  prevailed  over  his  hot  temper  and 
his  pride  as  to  form  the  resolution  to  seek  once  more  an  inter 
view  with  Esther.  He  would  once  more,  he  thought,  appeal  to 
the  old  friendship  between  them ;  he  would  once  more,  but  with 
more  eloquent  appeals  than  the  tame  language  with  which,  as  it 
now  seemed  to  him,  he  had  last  urged  his  Suit,  again  endeavor 
to  tear  her  from  the  desolation  in  which  she  had  made  her  home, 
xvould  once  more,  and  in  bold  and  irresistible  terms,  warn  her 
of  the  dangerous  character  of  the  unworthy  knight  whom  she 
had  admitted  to  her  acquaintance.  Should  he  find  his  first  sus 
picions  as  baseless  as  he  fondly  prayed  that  they  might  prove, 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


he  would  upon  his  knees  implore  her  forgiveness,  that  he  should 
have  dared  to  profane  the  purity  of  her  mind  with  the  breath  of 
his  suspicions.  If,  however,  he  should  find  that  those  boding 
thoughts  which  still  haunted  him  could  not  be  dispelled  by  her 
presence,  he  would  at  any  rate  bid  her  farewell  in  a  spirit  more 
worthy  both  of  her  character  and  his  own.  Having  once  formed 
this  resolution,  he  had,  with  the  headlong  impatience  of  his  char 
acter,  been  unable  to  rest  till  he  had  fulfilled  it.  With  a  bosom 
beatino-  hio-h  with  renewed  hope,  he  had  devoured  the  ruo-crcd 

O  O  1        '  c  CT 

and  difficult  tract  of  wilderness  which  still  separated  him  from 
her,  and  had  paused  a  moment  within  the  edge  of  the  thicket 
which  fringed  the  glade  before  her  door,  to  collect  his  whirling 
thoughts,  and  to  calm  his  feverish  brain. 

At  that  very  moment,  as  he  thus  paused,  in  full  view  of  that 
lowly  door-step,  but  himself  screened  from  sight  by  the  protect 
ing  branches  of  the  tree,  he  had  been  an  involuntary  witness  to 
the  concluding  moments  of  Esther's  interview  with  the  hated 
and  mysterious  adventurer.  lie  stood  there  transfixed,  gazing 
as  mute  and  motionless  upon  the  face  of  that  fair  Puritan,  as  if, 
like  the  loveliness  of  the  fabled  Medusa,  it  possessed  the  power 
to  transform  him  to  stone,  while,  as  in  that  fearful  fable,  a 
thousand  serpents  sprang  from  the  life's  blood  which  seemed 
slowly  dropping  from  his  heart.  He  stood  there,  like  one  en 
chanted,  too  distant  to  hear  the  low  accents  of  Mabel,  and  with 
his  whole  soul  concentrated  in  his  eyes  lie  stood  rooted  to  that 
spot,  and  an  earthquake  would  hardly  have  aroused  him.  He 
heard  not,  spoke  not,  scarcely  breathed,  but  he  saw  all  that 
passed.  He  saw  Esther  place  the  chain  in  Gardiner's  hand  ;  he 
saw  him  kiss  the  sacred  pledge  of  affection,  accursed  hypocrite 
that  he  was,  and  then  place  it  next  his  heart;  he  saw  his  smile  of 
gratitude;  he  saw  Esther's  lips  breathing  the  gentle  accents  of 
farewell  ;  he  saw  the  long,  audacious  glance,  with  which  the 
knight  dwelt  upon  her  retiring  form ;  he  saw  his  smile  of  triumph 


152  MERRY-MOUNT. 


as  he  advanced,  in  slow  and  rapturous  self  communion  as  it 
seemed,  directly  towards  the  tree  which  sheltered  his  own  figure. 
He  saw  all  this,  and  stood  motionless.  He  suppressed  even  his 
breath  as  he  saw  his  hated  rival  striding  so  closely  to  him.  The 
knight  paused  at  last,  and  leaned  against  the  tree.  Maudsley 
was  so  near  that  he  might  almost  touch  him ;  he  saw  the  chain 
glittering  upon  his  breast,  he  could  almost  see  the  bright  and 
soaring  thoughts,  which  he  knew  were  swarming  and  singing 
their  triumphal  music  in  his  brain.  They  were  alone  together 
in  the  wilderness,  with  only  the  stars  to  look  down  upon  them, 
and  his  hand  clutched  the  hilt  of  his  sword  convulsively,  as  he 
felt  that  if  the  hour  of  certainty  and  of  despair  had  struck,  that 
the  hour  of  vengeance,  too,  had  sounded.  He  stood  there 
gazing  upon  the  face  of  his  successful  rival,  and  resolved,  as  he 
studied  the  lineaments  of  that  dark  and  impassible  physiognomy, 
that  he  would  calm  himself  before  he  addressed  him,  because  he 
knew  the  self-balanced  character  of  his  antagonist,  and  was 
unwilling  to  confront  the  man  who  was  always  master  of  him 
self,  while  his  own  reason  was  well  nigh  blinded  by  his  passion. 
He  stood  there  striving  in  vain  to  compose  himself,  for  a  few 
rapid  moments,  and  remembering  that  the  spot  where  they  now 
stood  was  too  near  the  abode  of  Ludlow,  and  therefore  unfitted 
for  the  work  which  they  were  soon  to  have  in  hand,  he  deter 
mined  to  accost  Sir  Christopher  tranquilly  that  they  might 
remove  together  to  a  more  appropriate  place.  While  Maudsley 
was  thus  hesitating,  the  knight  suddenly  aroused  himself  from 
his  reverie,  and,  with  rapid  movements,  strode  away  from  the 
tree  in  the  direction  of  the  coast.  Maudsley,  forgetting  his 
resolution  of  calmness,  and  furious  lest  his  prey  should  escape 
him,  sprang  madly  forward,  calling  out  to  his  enemy  in  a  low, 
husky  tone,  choked  with  emotion,  which  was  inaudible  to  the 
rapidly  retreating  and  unconscious  Gardiner.  At  the  same 
moment  his  arm  was  suddenly  clutched  from  behind,  and  his 


MERRY-MOUNT.  153 


progress  towards  his  antagonist  impeded.  Thus  assaulted,  he 
turned  upon  his  new  enemy,  raising  his  sword  to  cut  down  the 
skulking  savage,  by  whom  he  supposed  himself  attacked.  What 
was  his  surprise  to  see  that  his  arm  had  been  seized,  and  his 
career  arrested  by  the  hand  of  a  fair,  slight  youth,  who  held  a 
dagger  indeed,  but  whose  frame,  though  graceful,  seemed  so 
powerless  compared  to  his  own,  that  he  lowered  his  uplifted 
sword,  Qontenting  himself  with  shaking  off  the  arm  which  held 
him,  while  he  gazed  with  a  sudden  emotion  of  wonder  into  the 

'  O 

face  of  the  youth. 

"  Spare  him,  spare  him,  Harry  Maudsley,"  said  the  young 
stranger,  in  a  voice  which  was  wild  with  emotion.  "  Not  to  you, 
not  to  you  belongs  the  task  —  you  shall  not  escape  me,"  he  con 
tinued,  clinging  with  all  his  strength  to  Maudsley,  who  strove  in 
vain  to  cast  him  off,  as  he  found  that  the  form  of  Gardiner  had 
already  disappeared  in  the  darkling  forest.  Enraged  at  this 
singular  and  unaccountable  interruption,  maddened  to  see  his 
enemy  thus  eluding  his  grasp,  and  cursing  the  folly  which  had 
restrained  him  from  dashino-  to  the  earth  the  slender  creature 

O 

who  had  thus  stepped  between  him  and  his  revenge,  he  once 
more  turned  to  him. 

"  Now,  by  the  God  of  Heaven,"  he  cried,  "  I  know  not  what 
prevents  me,  thou  insolent  stripling,  from  cleaving  thee  to  the 
earth.  Whence  come  ye,  in  the  name  of  the  foul  fiend,  who,  I 
believe,  hath  sent  you  hither  to  balk  me?  whence  come  ye, 
what  are  ye,  and  why  have  you  dared  thus  to  lay  violent  hands 
upon  me,  and  to  interfere  with  my  purposes  ?  Speak,  or  even 
this  slender  frame  shall  not ." 

Maudsley  interrupted  himself  as  he  spoke,  for  his  face  was 
now  close  to  his  companion's,  and  there  was  something  fearful 
in  the  expression  of  the  stripling's  beautiful  but  distorted  fea 
tures,  and  in  the  wild  light  that  gleamed  from  his  eyes,  with  the 
yellowish,  unnatural  glare  of  a  savage  creature  of  the  forest. 


154  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Strike,  if  you  will,"  said  the  youth,  without  the  slightest 
indication  of  fear,  as  he  looked  contemptuously  upon  the  threat 
ening  blade  of  Maudsley  —  "  strike,  if  you  will.  My  purpose 
is  at  least  answered.  The  knight  is  already  far  beyond  your 
reach.  Strike,  Harry  Maudsley,  think  you  I  fear  your  anger. 
Alas !  this  heart  of  mine  hath  been  more  deeply  struck  this 
night  than  sword  of  yours  could  wound  it.  Strike,  Harry 
Maudsley.  Think  ye  my  life's  blood  will  be  a  love  potion  for 
ye  to  win  back  the  heart  of  your  fair  and  fickle  Puritan  ? " 

Maudsley  chafing  at  this  allusion  to  the  wound  which  was 
festering  in  his  bosorn,  and  completely  enraged  that  the  interrup 
tion  of  the  stranger  had  been,  indeed,  successful  in  compelling 
him  to  defer  his  vengeance  upon  Gardiner,  exclaimed  in  a  voice 
hoarse  with  passion  — 

"  I  hardly  know  why  I  pause,  why  I  obey  not  your  bold  de 
fiance,  save  that  I  scorn  to  strike  at  aught  so  feeble.  What  art 
thou,  peevish  boy,  that  thou  hast  dared  thus  to  intercept  my 
purposes,  and  even  to  goad  me  beyond  endurance,  by  thy  sharp 
and  scornful  language.  But  I  cry  your  pardon,  my  gentle 
youth.  Doubtless,  you  too  are  a  suitor  to  yon  fair  and  fickle 
Puritan,  as  you  term  her,  and  have  learned  by  what  you  have 
seen  this  evening,  how  well  such  suit  is  like  to  prosper.  Is  it 
so  ?  Tell  me,  and  I  will  forgive  thee  for  thy  insolence." 

The  lad  laughed  a  low,  scornful  laugh  as  he  replied,  looking 
as  he  did  so,  with  an  indefinitely  taunting  expression,  upon  the 
face  of  Maudsley.  "  No,  truly,  Master  Maudsley,  you  are 
strangely  deceived  by  your  passion.  Think  you,  then,  that 
yonder  marble  face  and  stony  heart,  to  which  you  yourself  bow 
down  in  such  hopeless  adoration,  have  such  an  omnipotent 
charm,  that  all  who  look  upon  her  in  this  savage  wilderness 
must  straightway  kneel  and  worship  ?  Oh?  no^  believe  mej  your 
frigid  Puritan  hath  no  charms  for  me." 

"Insolent,  presumptuous?"  interrupted  Maudsley,  who,  how- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  ]  55 


ever,  was  so  impressed  with  the  extraordinary  apparition  of  this 
youth,  whom  he  now  looked  upon  for  the  first  time,  that  he  stood 
still  and  listened  to  him,  with  a  curiosity  excited  by  his  mysteri 
ous  appearance  and  language,  that  not  even  the  tumultuous 
emotions  that  were  raging  in  his  bosom,  could  entirely  extin 
guish.  Who  the  singular  stranger  was,  how  he  seemed  to  be  so 
familiar  with  his  name  and  person,  how  he  was  able  thus  to 
probe  the  secrets  of  his  heart,  whence  he  derived  his  strange 
power  thus  to  taunt  and  dare  him  to  his  face,  with  such  im 
punity,  were  questions  which  he  asked  himself  but  could  not 
answer. 

"  No,  Master  Maudsley,  no,"  continued  the  stranger,  "  neither 
insolent  nor  presumptuous.  My  words  are  meant  in  kindness, 
for  God  knows  I  would  almost  spare  my  deadliest  enemy  the 
pang  of  jealousy." 

The  youth's  features  were  livid  with  emotion,  and  his  voice 
grew  hoarse  and  husky  as  he  spoke,  but  he  commanded  himself 
again,  and  continued  in  a  more  gay  but  bitter  tone, — 

"  No,  no,  Harry  Maudsley,  your  wondrous  Puritan  hath  no 
charms  for  me.  I  loathe  the  very  name  of  Puritan,  I  hate  their 
rigid  looks,  frigid  hearts,  and  insolent  sanctity,  and  for  yonder 
daughter  and  fitting  model  of  her  whole  dreary  sect,  I  assure 
you  I  do  esteem  her  well  assorted  in  this  gloomy  wilderness. 
Believe  me,  I  looked  upon  you  but  now  with  pity,  when  I  mark 
ed  the  benumbing  spell  spread  over  you  by  yonder  passionless 
beauty." 

"  Thou  dost  most  grossly  abuse,"  said  Maudsley,  "  the  privi 
lege  of  thy  weakness.  I  would  I  knew  if  thou  wert  man  or 
child,  angel  or  demon,  that  thou  standest  here  calmly  mocking 
me,  while  I  stand  listening  like  a  slave." 

"  Be  calm,  Harry  Maudsley,"  answered  the  mysterious  youth, 
while  Maudsley,  who  really  seemed  in  a  manner  fascinated,  and 
who,  perhaps,  as  would  not  have  seemed  extraordinary  in  that 


156  MERRY-MOUNT. 


age  of  boundless  superstition,  believed  himself  in  the  presence  of 
something  unearthly,  stood  obediently  silent  again. 

"  Be  calm,  Harry  Maudsley;  I  tell  you  I  pitied  you  from  my 
heart,  when  I  saw  you  thus  spell-bound  by  your  cold  enchan 
tress.  No,  the  woman  I  could  worship  should  be  one  who 
should  make  the  blood  whirl  through  the  veins,  not  a  statue 
carved  in  ice,  to  freeze  my  heart  and  chill  my  senses." 

"  Why  then,"  asked  Maudsley,  "  why  in  the  name  of  Heaven, 
if  you  are  not  bound  by  some  singular  tie  to  the  fate  of  yonder 
maiden,  or  my  own,  why  are  you  thus  interested,  why  were  you 
thus  impassioned,  why  did  you  arrest  my  arm,  and  frustrate 
my  intentions;  in  one  word,  whence  and  what  are  ye? " 

"  Faith,"  answered  the  lad,  still  in  the  same  gentle  but 
taunting  manner,  "  I  hardly  know  why  I  should  answer  your 
catechism.  My  own  information  as  to  your  name  and  purposes, 
your  past  and  your  future  career,  are  all  sufficiently  well  known 
to  me,  and  yet  have  I  not  intruded  upon  the  privacy  of  your 
thoughts  by  one  single  question  1 " 

"  My  future  !  my  future  !  inexplicable  and  perplexing  being  !  " 
exclaimed  Maudsley,  "  presumest  thou  then  to  read  the  dark, 
unwritten  page  of  coming  events  1  " 

"Truly,"  answered  the  stranger,  "  it  needeth  no  ghost  from 
the  grave  to  foretell  thy  future.  A  less  preternatural  hand  might 
venture  to  lift  the  curtain,  which  hardly  conceals  the  mad  career 
of  such  a  reckless  spirit  as  thou  seemest." 

"  Read  it  to  me,  if  thou  canst  and  darest,"  exclaimed  Mauds- 
ley,  impatiently. 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  his  companion,  "  I  am  no  necromancer 
nor  mountebank.  Least  of  all,  to-night,  shouldst  thou  listen  to 
thy  doom.  Suffice  that  if  I  read  the  stars  aright,  thy  fortune  is 
still  within  thy  command,  thy  destiny  not  so  direful  as  thou 
thinkest.  Nay  more,  thou  shalt  have  a  pledge  of  this  promise. 
Mark  me,  ere  three  days  are  flown,  shalt  thou  find  around  thy 
neck,  something  which  is  very  dear  to  thy  heart." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  157 


"  What  mean  you  by  this  riddle  ?  "  exclaimed  Maudsley  — 
"  and  what  know  ye  of " 

"  Ask  me  no  farther/'  interrupted  the  youth,  '*  what  I  know, 
I  know.  Suffice  it  you  to  know,  that  where  you  most  love,  I 
most  hate,  where  you  most  hate,  I  most  madly  love.  Yet  am  I 
not  your  enemy,  nay  more,  I  would  be  your  friend,  but  that 
friendship  from  me  is  a  mockery  and  a  curse." 

"  Truly,  I  thank  you  for  your  good  wishes,"  interrupted 
Maudsley,  "  but  I  could  wish  you  to  talk  less  in  parables,  which 
convey  but  dim  intelligence  to  my  uninstructed  ear.  Know  ye, 
since  ye  forbid  me  to  ask  you  further  of  yourself,  and  since  you 
disclaim  all  interest  in,  and  all  affection  for  the  fair  Puritan  who 
dwelleth  yonder,  know  ye  yon  false-hearted  knight,  whom  men 
call  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  ?  " 

"  Do  I  know  the  knight  ? "  almost  shrieked  the  stranger,  in  a 
shrill  passionate  tone.  "  Do  I  know  him  ? "  and  the  boy 
laughed  a  hollow,  mocking  laugh,  that  almost  chilled  the  listen 
er's  blood.  "Truly  I  know  him  well.  And  yet  I  pity  him,  j 
pity  thee,  I  pity  yon  fair,  icy  maiden,  I  pity  each  and  all  of  ye 
more,  ten  thousand  times  more,  than  I  do  myself.  There  might 
be  creatures  who,  if  they  looked  in  upon  my  heart  even  now, 
might  pity  even  while  they  shrank  from  me.  No  matter,  we  are 
all  the  fools  of  our  destiny,  and  the  time  shall  come,  perhaps, 
when  the  strange  and  bewildering  scroll  shall  be  as  plain  to  our 
senses  as  if  written  in  letters  of  light.  I  cry  your  pardon," 
added  the  youth,  suddenly  checking  himself,  and  speaking  in  an 
altered  and  more  moderate  tone,  "  I  am  much  to  blame,  but 
sometimes  I  fear  my  brain  is  turning.  This  wandering  late  of 
nights  may  be  hurtful.  You  ask  me  if  I  know  one  Sir  Christo 
pher  Gardiner.  I  bade  you  to  question  rne  no  further,  yet  you 
shall  be  answered.  Beware,  Harry  Maudsley.  Look  to  your 
beautiful  Puritan.  Though  she  be  marble,  she  may  be  moved, 
though  she  be  ice,  she  may  melt ;  and  I  tell  you  that,  if  there  be 

VOL.  i.  14 


158  MERRY-MOUNT. 


one  silver  cord  of  human  tenderness  within  her  heart,  the  hand 
of  the  wily  tempter  hath  already  struck  it,  and  awakened  its 
slumbering  music." 

The  youth  paused,  and  looked  at  Maudsley  with  an  expression 
of  profound  commiseration,  as  he  saw  how  deep  a  wound  he 
was  inflicting.  He  laid  his  hand  once  more  upon  his  arm  with 
an  almost  caressing  gentleness,  as  he  said  in  a  low  and  melan 
choly  tone,  — 

"  Alas  !  we  are  all  consumed  by  selfishness.  Believe  me,  I 
spoke  wildly  and  perhaps  unwisely.  Tell  me,"  continued  the 
boy  almost  fondly,  "  is  yonder  fair-faced  Puritan  so  dear  to  your 
heart  then?" 

"  I  know  not  from  what  source,"  answered  Maudsley,  "  that 
you  derive  your  mysterious  power  over  my  mind.  Tell  me, 
I  conjure  you,  why  do  I  thus  stand  listening  like  a  slave  to  your 
wild  and  incoherent  ravings  ? " 

"  You  have  not  answered  my  question,"  continued  the  youth, 
still  in  the  same  caressing  tone.  "  Tell  me,  is  the  maiden 
so  dear  to  you  then  ?  " 

"  She  was." 

"  And  is  she  so  no  longer  ? " 

"No." 

"  Alas,  Harry  Maudsley,  I  know  you  better  than  you  know 
yourself.  Yours  is  a  nature  where  passion  obeys  not  reason. 
You  love  her  still.  Those  icy  chains  are  riveted  upon  your 
heart.  Look  yonder  at  the  cold,  pale,  virgin  moon,"  said  the 
youth,  as  the  crests  of  the  shadowy  forests  became  silvery  in  the 
rising  radiance.  "  Serene  and  passionless  she  sails  in  yonder 
calm  and  distant  ether,  and  heeds  not  the  tumultuous  tides  of 
ocean,  which  follow  her  high  command  like  spell-bound  slaves. 
Such  is  your  fair  and  soulless  mistress.  I  pity  you,  and  ah  I 
how  truly  can  I  sympathize  with  you.  Think  you  I  know  not 
what  brought  you  hither  over  the  wintry  sea  ?  and  think  you  I 


MERRY-MOUNT.  159 


do  no  honor  to  the  thought  ?  I  too,  I  too,  who  have  forsaken 
home,  and  happiness,  and  God,  only  to  wander  in  the  wilderness 
till  my  heart  bleeds  itself  to  death,  I  too  can  pity,  sympathize 
with,  yea,  render  honor  to  the  abject  slave  of  love  —  wandering 
in  deserts,  braving  peril,  sacrificing  his  all,  and  all  for  naught." 

"  My  sacrifices  are  over,  boy,"  said  Maudsley;  "I  have  torn 
my  heart  out,  but  I  can  leave  it  in  the  desert.  I  know  not  your 
sorrows,  but  I  fain  would  know  them.  Let  us  return  together 
across  the  stormy  deep.  Neither  to  you  nor  to  myself,  I  fear, 
is  the  crown  decreed  after  all  our  struggles.  Will  you  go  with 
me?" 

The  moon-light  shone  full  upon  the  pale,  beautiful  face  of  the 
youth.  Maudsley  saw  that  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  No,  Harry  Maudsley,  I  go  with  none.  I  must  do  my  work 
alone.  For  me  there  is  no  returning,  no  reprieve.  Your  heart 
is  kind,  and  deserves  a  better  fate  than  seemeth  now  in  store 
for  it.  Believe  me,  it  shall  go  better  with  thee,  and  trust  the 
word  of  one  who  hath  so  long  been  out  of  fortune's  favor,  that 
he  hath  ceased  to  hope  for  himself,  that  your  star  shall  soon 
emerge  from  the  clouds.  Farewell,  Harry  Maudsley,  perhaps 
we  meet  again." 

The  boy  seized  his  hand,  pressed  it  passionately  to  his 
lips,  and  then  suddenly  disappeared.  Maudsley  called  to  him, 
but  in  vain.  He  followed  in  the  direction  in  which  he  had 
vanished,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  him.  Obeying  some  irre 
sistible  impulse  he  dashed  forward  in  pursuit.  Plunging  through 
the  difficult  and  briery  thicket,  now  caught  by  mighty  grape 
vines  which  twined  like  coiling  serpents  round  his  limbs,  now 
hurled  to  the  ground  by  the  grey,  protecting  branches  of  the 
ancient  trees,  and  now  struggling  through  the  dreary  morass 
which  quaked  and  shifted  beneath  his  feet,  still  on  he  sped, 
through  the  silent  night  and  the  darkling  forest.  He  reached 
the  shore,  he  looked  forth  upon  the  mighty  waste  of  waters. 


160  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  moon  hung  in  cloudless  glory  above  the  tossing  waves,  and 
the  long  column  of  light  lay  upon  the  ocean's  surface  like  a 
prostrate  pillar  of  silvery  fire.  But  neither  on  shore  or  sea 
could  his  eyes  discern  any  trace  of  a  living  creature.  He  threw 
himself  on  the  sandy  beach,  and  listened  to  the  monotonous  but 
musical  roar  of  the  surf.  His  wild  and  whirling  thoughts  were 
soothed  for  a  season  by  the  majestic  influences  of  that  sublime 
solitude,  and  his  boiling  blood  flowed  more  calmly. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE    MAY-DAY    REVELS    AT    MERRY-MOUNT. 

THE  last  day  of  April  had  arrived,  and  the  eccentric  sovereign 
of  Merry-Mount,  who  had  promised  to  his  subjects  and  himself 
a  celebration  of  the  ensuing  festival  of  May-day,  according  to 
the  jTpod  old  custom  of  merry  England,  had  completed  his  pre 
parations.  Many  of  the  guests  had  already  assembled,  for  the 
sports  were  to  commence  upon  the  eve,  and  to  be  continued 
through  the  following  day. 

A  rabble  rout  of  vagabonds  of  all  descriptions  had  assembled 
at  Merry-Mount.  All  his  numerous  subjects  and  retainers,  includ 
ing  those  of  the  reader's  acquaintance  who  had  already  recov 
ered  from  the  damages  sustained  in  the  conflict  at  Mishawum, 
were  lounging  about  the  pathways  of  the  forest  or  amusing 
themselves  upon  the  open  glade  around  the  palace,  with  various 
uproarious  sports.  Upon  the  summit  of  the  bare  and  elevated 
mound  which  rose  on  the  seaward  side  of  Morton's  territory, 
the  sovereign  himself  was  seated  in  company  with  Henry 
Maudsley  and  the  blacksmith,  Thomas  Walford. 

"  I  am  truly  beholden  to  you,  my  masters,"  said  Morton, 
"  that  you  have  kindly  consented  to  grace  our  poor  revels.  A 
poor  and  meagre  substitute,  I  fear  me,  for  the  ample  and  jovial 
revelry  of  old  England's  merriest  holiday,  our  entertainment  may 
prove ;  still  good  humor  shall  not  be  wanting,  nor  such  good 
cheer  as  the  wilderness  may  afford." 

"  I  hope  my  worthy  gossip,  Robin  Bootefish,  hath  quite  recov 
ered  from  his  ugly  knocks  from  yonder  red-legged  vermin,"  said 
the  blacksmith  ;   "truly  was  he  pounded  into  a  jelly,  and  I  never 
14* 


162  MERRY-MOUNT. 


thought  at  one  time  to  see  him  on  his  pegs  again.  A  good 
swashing  fellow  is  Robin,  and  a  hearty  fellow  at  a  hug  with  a 
red-breech;  I  hope  his  soul  and  body  hold  together,  Master 
Morton." 

"Hold  together!  that  do  they  indeed,"  answered  Morton; 
"  honest  Robin's  soul  and  body  are  as  well  coopered  together 
again  as  ever  a  one  of  his  own  ale-butts  over  which  he  presides 
with  so  much  dignity.  Master  Maudsley,  you  are  looking  but 
so-so.  I  fear  me  from  your  cloudy  countenance  that  you  have 
but  small  spirit  for  these  follies." 

"In  truth,  Master  Morton,"  answered  Maudsley,  who  still 
lingered  from  habit  at  the  place  where  he  had  temporarily  and 
for  his  own  purposes  established  himself,  but  to  whom,  as  may  be 
easily  supposed,  the  habits  of  the  Merry-Mount  crew  were  distaste 
ful  enough  in  his  present  state  of  mind ;  "  in  truth,  I  fear  I  shall 
be  but  a  sorry  guest  at  your  festivities,  and  you  must  pardon  me 
for  reminding  you  that,  by  our  compact,  I  am  to  be  but  a  looker- 
on,  and  not  an  actor." 

"  As  you  please,  as  you  please,"  answered  Morton,  "  you  shall 
find  that  our  majesty  of  Merry-Mount  is  less  despotic  than  our 
royal  brother  of  England.  Nobody  shall  dance  or  sing  upon 
compulsion  in  my  dominions ;  but  trust  me,  Master  Maudsley, 
you  would  do  well,  for  your  own  sake,  to  take  that  gloomy  mask 
off  your  handsome  face,  and  make  a  present  of  it  to  some  Ply 
mouth  saint  who  may  have  cracked  his  lantern-jaws  with  too 
much  yawning  and  singing  of  hallelujahs.  By  the  way,  I  regret 
that  our  estimable,  but  rather  serious  friend,  Sir  Christopher, 
hath  positively  refused  us  his  presence.  He  is  at  present  at  New 
Plymouth,  I  believe." 

The  gloom  upon  Maudsley's  haggard  features  was  certainly 
not  enlivened  by  the  concluding  allusion  of  Morton  to  the  absent 
knight,  who  had  hitherto  eluded  his  pursuit,  and  his  voice  trem 
bled  with  suppressed  emotion  as  he  replied,  — 


MERRY-MOUNT.  1(33 


"  I  have  heard  that  the  knight,  with  whom  by  the  way  my  ac 
quaintance  is  but  limited,  had  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Plymouth. 
I  have  some  trifling  matters  of  business  to  settle  with  him,  and 
trust  ere  long  that  he  will  return.  I  presume  you  know  some 
thing  of  his  movements,  Master  Morton." 

"  Truly,  but  little  can  safely  be  predicted  of  Sir  Christopher's 
movements,"  was  the  reply,  "  unless  one  could  have  the  good 
fortune  to  look  at  their  very  intricate  springs,  and  those  unluck 
ily  are  locked  up  very  closely  in  his  own  bosom.  Still  I  shall 
marvel  much  if  he  do  not  return  to  his  customary  haunt  before 
many  days  have  passed." 

"  It  appears  that  your  sports,"  said  Maudsley,  who  was  de 
sirous  of  changing  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  "  are  to 
commence  this  afternoon.  I  suppose  your  May-pole,  however, 
will  hardly  be  erected  before  morning,  as  that  I  think  is  the 
usage,  at  any  rate,  in  the  part  of  England  which  I  inhabit." 

"  The  May-games,"  answered  Morton,  who  was  full  of  quaint 
information  upon  this,  and  upon  all  kindred  subjects,  "  were  not 
always  confined  to  the  first  of  May,  nor  concluded  in  one  day. 
They,  are  indeed,  Master  Maudsley,  a  relic  of  ancient  custom 
among  the  heathen,  who  religiously  celebrated  the  four  last  days 
of  April  and  the  first  of  May,  as  a  festival  in  honor  of  the 
goddess  Flora,  the  gentle  deity  of  flowers  and  fruit.  The 
ancients  were  a  genial  and  an  imaginative  race.  By  the  beard 
of  Jupiter  Diespiter,  I  sometimes  think  there  was  some  mistake 
at  my  birth,  and  that  I  was  intended  to  have  flourished  among 
the  pagans." 

"  But  I  believe,"  said  Maudsley,  "  that  an  equal  homage  has 
been  always  paid  to  the  same  divinity,  although  under  a  less 
classical  appellation,  from  the  remotest  times,  both  in  England 
and  in  other  lands." 

"  Unquestionably,"  said  Morton,  "  the  custom  hath  been  time- 
honored  among  Christians  as  well  as  pagans,  and  I  swear  that  the 


164  MERRY-MOUNT. 


benighted  heathens  of  this  Ultima  Thule  shall  also  learn  to 
respect  it.  The  peasantry  of  England  and  of  other  countries 
hold  that  the  observation  of  the  ceremony  is  a  good  omen,  and 
will  propitiate  the  warm  favors  of  the  Summer,  and  win  the 
golden  treasures  of  Autumn." 

"  In  old  times,"  said  Maudsley,  "  I  think  I  have  heard  or 
read  that,  as  in  antiquity,  the  revels  of  May  were  protracted 
much  beyond  a  single  day  in  England." 

"  Of  a  surety,"  replied  Morton.  "  In  the  reign  of  Henry  VII., 
the  genial  month  was  so  overladen  with  its  festivities,  that  May 
perforce  usurped  the  dominion  of  its  sunny  sister  June.  Those, 
Master  Maudsley,  were  the  glorious  days  of  graceful  and  manly 
sport,  and  the  returning  smiles  of  spring  were  hailed  and 
courted  amid  the  waving  of  pennoned  lances,  the  career  of 
panoplied  knights,  the  clangor  of  trumpets,  the  smiles  of  beauty. 
Day  after  day  on  horseback,  on  foot,  with  spear  and  sword, 
cross-bow  and  quarter-staff,  would  the  gallant  knights  continue 
their  tournament,  maintaining  the  charms  and  the  supremacy  of 
their  sovereign  Lady  May  against  all  comers  from  far  or  near." 

"  But  the  custom  was  of  far  more  ancient  observance,  I 
believe,"  said  Maudsley,  who  was  listlessly  endeavoring  to 
distract  his  stormy  thoughts,  by  affecting  an  interest  in  the 
subject,  which  at  that  moment  engrossed  his  companion's  whole 
attention. 

"  More  ancient !  "  exclaimed  Morton  ;  "  marry,  I  would  fain 
know  at  what  remote  period  there  was  an  England  without  a 
May-day.  Not  surely  in  the  glorious  days  of  King  Arthur,  when 
the  beauteous  Queen  Guenever,  as  soon  as  the  genial  month 
appeared,  would  ride  forth  early  in  the  morn,  a  Maying  into  the 
woods  and  fields,  attended  by  her  knights  of  the  round  table,  all 
clad  in  green,  all  mounted  on  their  mettled  steeds,  each  bearing 
a  fair  lady  on  his  crupper,  and  each  followed  by  his  esquire  and 
yeoman.  Alas,  my  masters,  I  do  ill  to  dazzle  ye  by  invoking 


MERRY-MOUNT.  J65 


the  stirring  memories  of  brighter  ages ;  but  a  wayfarer  in  the 
wilderness,  like  myself,  must  even  do  his  best  with  the  materials 
which  he  can  find." 

"  There  is  a  meaning  and  a  moral  in  all  such  ceremonies," 
said  Muudsley,  "  although  the  sad-browed  saints,  whose  fingers 
itch  to  pluck  all  the  gay  plumage  from  life,  can  never  see  it." 

"  Marry,"  replied  Morton,  "  and  what  a  forlorn  and  shivering 
chicken  will  poor  humanity  prove  when  they  have  pulled  all  the 
painted  feathers  out  of  its  tail.  A  fig  for  life  when  it  hath  lost 
its  illusion.  The  foul  fiend  fly  away  with  the  world,  for  me, 
when  it  hath  grown  virtuous  and  sensible  and  regenerated.  These 
wiseacres,  who  would  crop  the  world  of  its  frivolities  as  closely 
as  they  trim  their  own  skulls,  may  have  the  whole  of  it  to  them 
selves  and  welcome,  as  soon  as  they  have  completed  their  work. 
When  life  is  drained  of  its  liquor,  they  may  live  in  the  empty 
butt  as  merrily  as  Diogenes  in  his  tub,  and  no  interference  from 
Thomas  Morton.  In  the  mean  time,  Master  Maudsley,  there 
shall  be  mirth  and  dancing,  good  liquor  and  good  fellow 
ship.  But  lo !  our  friend,  the  Cyclops  of  Mishawum,  lieth  al 
ready  in  the  arms  of  Morpheus.  I  fear  I  have  been  tedious  as 
a  Puritan.  Moreover,  the  hours  are  advancing,  let  me  first 
awaken  this  slumbering  giant,  and  then  with  your  permission, 
Master  Maudsley,  we  will  descend  to  the  plain  yonder." 

The  blacksmith  was  accordingly  awakened  from  a  refreshing 
nap,  which  the  didactic  conversation  of  Morton  had  induced, 
and  the  three  accordingly  descended  from  the  mound. 

It  was  already  late  in  the  afternoon.  The  weather  was  fine 
and  warm,  the  season  was  a  forward  one,  so  that  there  was  a 
prospect  which  might  not  have  always  proved  the  case,  that  the 
necessary  garlands  and  budding  branches  would  be  found  for 
the  morrow's  purposes,  and  upon  the  whole,  the  spring,  in  this 
climate  more  than  in  any  other,  the  most  perverse,  coquettish, 
and  fickle  of  seasons,  seemed  desirous  of  rewarding  her  ardent 


166  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  light-hearted  adorer  with  her  sunniest  smiles.  The  open 
glade  around  the  palace  was  thronged  with  a  strange  and  motley 
assemblage.  We  have  already  observed,  that  besides  the  large 
number  of  vagabonds  of  various  descriptions  who  occupied  the 
log-houses  which  were  clustered  and  formed  a  little  village 
around  the  palace  of  the  suzerain,  there  had  been  a  general 
invitation  given  by  Morton  to  all  the  scattered  inhabitants  of  the 
neighborhood  to  share  his  hospitality  upon  this  occasion.  More 
over,  a  considerable  number  of  Indians  of  both  sexes,  who  had 
long  been  upon  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  Merry-Mount  crew, 
and  many  of  whom,  in  consideration  of  Morton's  good  humor 
and  good  liquor,  were  willing  to  acknowledge  him  as  their  liege 
lord,  were  mingled  indiscriminately  with  groups  of  Englishmen, 
as  wild  in  conduct,  if  paler  in  countenance,  than  themselves. 
Boisterous  games,  frantic  peals  of  laughter,  loud  and  incoherent 
and  often  incomprehensible  language,  English  chatter  and  Eng 
lish  oaths  intermixed  with  the  guttural  grunting  of  the  Indians, 
in  short,  a  distracting  variety  of  screams,  shouts  and  yells  awoke 
the  echoes  of  the  hilly  amphitheatre  which  encircled  the  scene. 

"  Come,  my  merry  men  all,"  said  Morton,  as  soon  as  he  ar 
rived  among  them,  "the  sun  is  already  near  setting,  —  'tis  time 
we  decided  the  contest  between  the  forces  of  Winter  and  Sum 
mer  ;  for  beshrew  me,  if  we  win  not  the  victory,  the  May-pole  may 
stand  another  year  in  the  forest  among  its  brethren,  with  the 
crows  building  their  nests  in  its  branches,  instead  of  being  borne 
and  erected  in  triumph  upon  the  summit  of  Merry-Mount." 

"  Please  your  worship,"  said  Bootefish,  who  now  came  forward 
with  a  very  imposing  and  solemn  air,  "  the  preparations  for  the 
banquet  of  this  evening  are  completed,  the  ducks  are  spitted,  the 
pigeons  trussed,  the  lobsters  disemboweled,  the  ale  broached, 
the  spirits  ready,  and  our  spirits  willing  —  I  only  wait  your 
worship's  orders." 

"  Spoken  like  a  Spartan,  most  laconic  of  butlers,"  answered 


MERRY-MOUNT.  167 

Morton,  and  now  do  me  the  favor  to  draw  off  your  party,  or 
rather  order  the  two  prefects  to  lead  each  his  own  to  the  summit 
of  the  mount." 

Bootefish,  who  was  Morton's  prime  minister  and  grand  coad 
jutor  upon  all  great*  occasions,  and  who  felt  himself  entirely  in 
his  element  when  engaged  in  ceremonies  of  any  sort,  now  seized 
a  brazen  trumpet  which  hung  at  his  waist,  and  blew  a  blast 
which  made  the  forest  ring  again.  As  he  concluded  his  strain, 
two  grotesquely  attired  creatures  were  seen  suddenly  to  issue 
from  different  thickets  of  the  neighboring  wood,  and  advance 
towards  the  company.  The  first  seemed  a  cross  between  an 
ourang  outang  and  a  bear,  walking  erect  like  the  one  and  cover 
ed  with  a  shaggy  hide  like  the  other.  It  was  a  tall,  grim  figure, 
with  the  face  of  a  man  looking  hideously  forth  from  a  tangled 
thicket  of  beard  which  hung  around  his  face  and  swept  his 
breast.  His  whole  body  as  well  as  his  arms,  legs,  hands  and 
feet  were  covered  with  black  and  rugged  fur;  a  garland  of 
winter  green  was  upon  his  head,  and  another  encircled  his  waist. 
This  Orson  held  an  oaken  cudgel  in  his  hand  and  advanced 
boldly  towards  the  assemblage,  making  a  series  of  uncouth  ges 
tures.  This  was  the  embodiment  of  Winter. 

The  other  figure  came  dancing  and  skipping  forward  with  the 
airy  movements  of  a  Zephyr,  although  his  merry  features  would 
hardly  have  seemed  sufficiently  divine  to  captivate  Aurora.  A 
garland  of  wind-flowers  and  violets  adorned  his  brows,  a  robe  of 
green  gossamer  floated  lightly  from  his  shoulders,  his  legs  and 
feet  were  adorned  with  buskins  and  sandals,  and  he  had  wings 
upon  his  heels.  Thus  attired,  and  presenting  a  happy  combina 
tion  of  Ariel,  Mercury,  and  Zephyr,  this  airy  being,  who  was 
the  representative  of  Summer,  the  prcefectus  cohortis  ccstalis, 
according  to  the  pedantic  Morton's  expression,  skipped  forward 
with  many  fantastic  contortions  towards  the  assembled  spectators. 
The  two  suddenly  met  in  the  centre  of  the  glade,  and  gazed  at 


168  MERRY-MOUNT. 


each  other  with  apparent  astonishment  and  indignation.  Sud 
denly,  Orson,  with  a  howl  of  rage,  lifted  his  mighty  club, 
Zephyr  raised  his  light  and  flower-wreathed  wand  to  defend 
himself;  but  just  as  the  blow  was  descending,  skipped  nimbly 
back,  while  his  ferocious  antagonist,  losing  his  balance  by  the 
unresisted  violence  of  his  own  attack,  floundered  clumsily  upon 
the  ground.  Zephyr  now  frisked  briskly  forward,  and  began  to 
dance  upon  his  prostrate  body,  but  Orson  suddenly  rousing  him 
self  with  a  roar,  the  aerial  being  tumbled  in  his  turn,  while 
Orson  again  threatened  to  demolish  him  with  his  club.  Summer 
lay  stark  and  stiff  upon  the  ground  awaiting  the  decisive  stroke ; 
the  blow  descended,  but  ere  it  struck  the  victim,  the  prostrate 
Zephyr  suddenly  darted  into  the  air,  thrusting  out  a  long,  red 
tongue,  and  while  his  blundering  foe  was  furiously  beating  the 
ground,  he  sprang  lightly  upon  his  shoulders,  and  tied  him 
self  in  a  knot  about  his  neck.  Orson,  thus  incommoded,  howled 
hideously  and  capered  round  the  field,  striving  in  vain  to  free 
himself.  It  was  useless,  the  imp  securely  held  his  seat,  grinning 
like  a  mythological  monkey.  Suddenly,  Orson  collecting  all  his 
energies,  plunged  wildly  forward,  directly  towards  a  large  tree 
which  stood  near  the  centre  of  the  glade,  apparently  determined 
to  dash  out  the  brains,  both  of  himself  and  his  persecutor.  As 
he  reached  the  tree,  however,  the  Zephyr  skipped  nimbly  from 
his  post,  caught  a  projecting  branch,  and  swung  himself  upon  it. 
The  luckless  Orson  gained  nothing  by  his  stratagem,  but  a  use 
less  thump  of  his  own  hairy  carcase  against  the  tree,  the  force  of 
which  brought  him  again  upon  the  ground.  Zephyr  jumped  again 
from  his  perch,  his  eyes  glittering  with  triumph  ;  but  ere  he  had 
achieved  the  victory  by  standing  again  upon  his  prostrate  body, 
his  enemy  was  up  again,  and  again  menacing  him  with  his  club. 
The  trumpet  of  Bootefish  now  suddenly  blew  a  second  blast, 
and  at  the  sound  the  two  champions  desisted  from  their  combat, 
and  with  threatening  gestures  separated  from  each  other. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  169 


The  whole  assemblage,  who  had  been  gazing  with  much  glee 
at  the  combat  between  the  representatives  of  Summer  and  Win 
ter,  seemed  to  regret  that  it  had  been  decided  neither  way,  but 
while  they  were  shouting  for  its  renewal  they  were  directed  to 
divide  themselves  into  two  parties.  At  the  word  of  command, 
and  with  the  promptness  of  drilled  soldiers,  they  obeyed  the 
orders,  and  divided  themselves  into  two  equal  portions ;  over  the 
one  of  which  Orson  instantly  assumed  command,  while  the  other 
arrayed  itself  under  the  banners  of  Zephyr.  The  two  parties, 
marching  in  harmony  with  the  trumpet  of  Bootensh,  which  all 
the  while  was  blowing  martial  sounds,  now  advanced  towards 
the  mound,  which  they  ascended  at  the  opposite  ends.  Morton, 
as  umpire  of  the  impending  combat,  had  preceded  them  to  the 
summit,  and  had  seated  himself  upon  a  rock,  where,  attended 
by  Walford  and  Maudsley,  he  presided  in  solemn  state  over  the 
scene. 

The  two  parties,  numbering  some  twenty-five  upon  a  side, 
stood  in  single  file  along  the  hill-top.  Their  leaders  now  ar 
ranged  them  across  the  breadth  of  the  mound,  so  that  only 
about  the  half  of  each  party  stood  upon  the  table-land,  while  the 
other  portions  maintained  a  difficult  footing  upon  the  steep  sides 
of  the  cliff,  by  clinging  to  each  other.  Bootensh  now  blew 
another  blast  from  his  trumpet,  and  then  waving  his  hand  for 
silence,  in  a  very  impressive  manner  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"  Oyez,  Oyez,  know  ye,  good  people  all  assembled,  that  our 
gracious  sovereign  lord,  Thomas  Morton,  Prince  of  Passano- 
gessit,  arid  suzerain  of  Merry-Mount,  not  being  satisfied  with 
the  combat  betwixt  the  forces  of  the  winter  and  spring,  hath 
been  graciously  pleased  to  ordain,  that  ye  all,  here  and  now 
assembled,  and  equally  and  fairly  matched,  do  each  and  all  of 
ye,  here  and  now  offer  your  own  bodies  upon  the  issue,  and 
by  true  and  manful  wager  of  battle,  decide  the  question." 

VOL.  i.  15 


170  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Then  gravely  bowing  to  his  sovereign,  the  dignified  Bootefish 
blew  another  blast,  and  then  added  in  a  Jess  pompous  manner, 
"  Now  fall  to  work,  ye  devils  ye,  red,  white,  and  grey,  —  pull 
Dick,  pull  devil,  hug  heathen,  hug  Christian,  and  make  the 
matter  short,  or  by  the  Lord,  the  brant  geese  will  be  burned  to  a 
cinder." 

The  stately  butler,  who  already  began  to  be  impatient,  lest 
the  banquet,  which  had  occupied  so  much  of  his  attention 
lately,  should  be  spoiled  by  delay,  now  withdrew  towards  the 
vicinity  of  his  liege  lord,  and  looked  upon  the  contest  with  some 
impatience. 

The  two  leaders,  Orson  and  Zephyr,  now  joined  hands  to 
gether  upon  the  summit,  with  their  followers  dangling  in  a 
chain,  each  clasping  the  waist  of  the  one  before  him  in  the  line. 
Manfully  and  ferociously  they  tugged,  each  striving  to  pull  their 
antagonists  over  to  their  own  side  or  to  the  ground.  For  a  long 
time  they  stood  locked,  motionless,  and  so  evenly  balanced,  that 
neither  column  wavered  an  inch,  till  at  last  Orson,  with  a  howl, 
which  was  responded  to  by  the  shrill  whoop  of  half  a  score  of 
savages,  hugged  the  grimacing  Zephyr  within  his  hairy  arms, 
and  pulled  the  whole  opposing  column  half  a  dozen  feet  towards 
him  by  main  strength.  Zephyr,  half  suffocated  in  his  embrace, 
lay  apparently  powerless  in  his  arms,  and  hardly  made  an  effort 
to  resist  the  attack,  but  no  sooner  did  he  find  himself  partially 
at  liberty  and  on  his  feet  again,  than  he  dexterously  turned  a 
somerset,  still  holding  Orson  by  his  shaggy  fore-paws,  and  twist 
ing  his  elastic  legs  tightly  about  the  monster's  throa^  ordered 
the  nearest  link  in  the  living  chain  which  hung  behind  himself, 
to  pull  with  might  and  main.  He  obeyed,  while  the  strangling 
Orson,  helpless  and  powerless,  was  dragged  forward  like  a  bull 
to  the  shambles,  with  his  cohort  struggling  confusedly  after  him. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  pause,  the  party  who  were  so  nearly  vic 
torious  began  to  yield  again.  Zephyr  still  hung,  but  with 


MERRY-MOUNT.  171 


relaxed  hold,  upon  Orson's  neck,  and  the  shaggy  representative 
of  winter,  breathing  and  gaining  strength  again,  began  to  press 
backwards,  dragging  his  opponents  after  him  with  prodigious 
vigor.  Zephyr,  still  loosely  clinging  to  his  foe,  allowed  himself  to 
be  dragged  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  the  opposite  column  shout 
ing  all  the  while  their  yells  of  triumph,  when  suddenly  he  un 
twisted  his  legs,  threw  a  back  somerset,  wrenched  himself  free 
from  Orson's  clutches  as  he  did  so,  and  then  stood  on  his  feet 
at  the  head  of  his  column,  while  his  antagonist,  who,  with  his 
whole  party,  had  been  tugging  with  might  and  main  to  drag  their 
enemies  to  the  brow  of  the  precipice,  now  suddenly  released 
from  the  opposing  pressure,  toppled  backwards  upon  his  men, 
who  all  fell  one  upon  another,  heels  over  head,  down  the  steep 
side  of  the  mount,  rolling  helter-skelter  on  each  other,  till  they 
reached  the  marsh  below,  some  of  them  even  sousing  them 
selves  in  the  creek  at  the  base  of  the  hill,  before  the  impetus 
of  their  descent  was  exhausted. 

The  trumpet  of  Bootefish  now  blew  another  blast,  and  the 
lord  of  Merry-Mount  stepping  forward,  announced  that  the 
combat  was  terminated  in  favor  of  the  cohorts  of  Summer,  and 
that -accordingly,  upon  the  following  morning,  the  Summer  should 
be  brought  home  with  appropriate  ceremonies  and  symbols  of 
victory.  He  farther  announced,  that  as  the  evening  was  ap 
proaching,  and  the  immediate  business  of  the  day  terminated, 
he  invited  the  worshipful  company  to  do  him  the  honor  of  their 
presence  at  the  grand  banquetting-hall  of  the  palace. 

The  ceremonious  Bootefish  now  again  sounded  his  trumpet, 
while  the  discomfited  Orson,  with  his  prostrate  followers,  arose 
and  struggled  from  the  morass  which  had  received  them,  shaking 
the  mud  and  water  from  their  garments,  and  once  more  ascended 
to  the  summit  of  the  mount.  Here,  at  the  command  of  their 
sovereign  lord,  both  champions  embraced  each  other  in  token  of 
amity,  Orson  hugging  the  breath  out  of  Zephyr's  body,  and 


172  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Zephyr  returning  the  compliment  by  again  half  strangling  his 
late  antagonist  with  his  supple  legs. 

The  whole  party  now  formed  again  with  great  decorum,  and 
heralded  by  the  chief  butler  and  master  of  ceremonies,  who 
waddled  down  the  steep  declivity  as  majestically  as  his  short 
legs  would  allow,  they  followed  the  Prince  of  Passanogessit  and 
his  two  companions,  Maudsley  and  the  blacksmith,  towards  the 
palace.  An  abundant  supply  of  good  cheer  and  good  liquor  had 
been  provided,  and  the  banquetting-room,  which  was  capacious 
enough  to  hold  about  one  half  the  guests,  was  soon  thronged, 
while  the  remainder  of  the  company,  who  could  find  no  room, 
were  satisfied  with  bivouacking  upon  the  outside,  where  they 
were  liberally  supplied  from  the  tables  within  the  house. 

Master  Morton  presided  with  solemn  dignity,  upon  an  elevated 
dais  or  platform  at  one  end  of  the  rude  hall,  where  Maudsley 
also  found  a  seat,  and  looked  distractedly  at  the  wild  and  gro 
tesque  scene  which  presented  itself  to  his  eyes.  The  shades  of 
evening  had  already  settled  upon  the  forest,  but  the  rude  hall 
was  as  usual  lighted  by  the  broad  glare  of  numerous  pine 
torches  which  threw  a  fitful  light  upon  the  strangely  assorted 
company,  where  the  ruddy  features,  civilized  attire,  and  uproar 
ious  mirth  of  the  Saxon  mingled  wildly  with  the  flashing  eyes, 
painted  faces  and  rude  but  picturesque  costume  of  the  savage 
children  of  the  forest,  who  sat  as  motionless  at  the  revel  as  if 
sculptured  in  bronze. 

The  company  upon  the  outside  had  lighted  a  fire,  around 
which  they  were  clustered,  while  the  food  and  liquor,  laughter 
and  song  went  round,  and  before  many  hours  had  elapsed,  they 
were  joined  by  the  other  party,  who  had  found  themselves  some 
what  cramped  by  the  confined  dimensions  of  the  royal  banquet- 
ting  hall.  Here  the  mirth  and  uproar  were  continued  till  late  in 
the  night,  or  rather  till  early  in  the  morning,  although  Morton, 
who  had  ordered  all  matters  with  a  foresight  befitting  so  solemn 


MERRY-MOUNT.  173 


an  occasion,  had  taken  care  that  but  a  limited  quantity  of  liquor 
should  be  served  out  at  this  introductory  portion  of  the  revels. 
The  sovereign  of  Merry-Mount,  as  soon  as  he  thought  that  the 
banquetting  had  gone  far  enough,  had  himself  retreated  within 
his  domicile  to  snatch  a  short  repose.  At  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  he  aroused  himself,  and  proceeding  with  great 
gravity  into  the  midst  of  the  assembled  rioters  who  were  still 
congregated  about  the  bonfire,  he  mounted  upon  the  stump 
of  a  large  tree  which  had  been  felled,  and  addressed  them  as 
follows  :  — 

"My  faithful  lieges  and  dutiful  subjects,  we  are  of  opinion 
that  this  night's  revel  hath  already  been  sufficiently  protracted. 
Therefore,  be  it  known  to  ye,  that  it  is  our  pleasure  that  ye  do 
now,  one  and  all,  and  in  such  parties  as  your  tastes  may  arrange, 
go  presently  forth  into  yonder  forest,  there  to  collect  the  choicest 
garlands,  and  to  hew  to  the  earth  the  mighty  pine  already  se 
lected  for  our  May-pole,  which  now  still  standeth  among  its  leafy 
brethren.  Ye  will  at  sunrise  bring  home  in  triumph  the  majes 
tic  symbol  of  the  returning  spring,  and  with  appropriate  cere 
monies  erect  it  upon  yonder  mount,  where  it  shall  serve  as  a  fair 
sea-mark  to  guide  all  comers  upon  the  morrow,  who  desire  to 
partake  of  the  hospitality  of  our  palace  of  Merry-Mount. 

"  Furthermore  be  it  known  unto  ye,  that  the  May  dew  upon 
the  grass  is  a  sovereign  specific  for  restoring  and  renovating  the 
lustre  of  the  human  countenance.  Ye  will  do  well  to  bathe 
your  visages,  something  time-stained  and  haply  flushed  with 
liquor  as  they  may  be,  that  beauty  may  be  spread  over  them,  as 
behoveth  the  gallant  followers  and  sworn  lieges  of  our  sovereign, 
Lady  May.  Go  forth,  my  lieges,  and  your  sovereign  shall,  after 
a  little  time,  follow  in  your  footsteps." 

As  the  suzerain  concluded  his  oration,  which  was  received 
with  uproarous  demonstrations  of  applause,  the  company,  with 
many  a  whoop  and  yell,  divided  themselves  into  different  parties, 
15* 


174  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  plunged  forth  in  various  directions  into  the  forest  which 
surrounded  the  palace.  Morton  withdrew  again  into  his  mansion, 
while  the  blacksmith,  who  had  no  mind  to  sacrifice  his  sleep  in 
order  to  participate  in  these  midnight  ceremonies,  and  who  cared 
not  to  enhance  the  beauty  of  his  swarthy  visage  by  bathing  it  in 
May  dew,  stretched  himself  at  his  vast  length  by  the  embers  of 
the  fire,  and  was  soon  lost  in  oblivion.  Maudsley,  after  wander- 
in<r  restlessly  to  and  fro  upon  the  borders  of  the  forest,  till  he 
was  wearied  with  the  conflict  of  his  own  distracting  thoughts, 
retired  into  his  own  log-hut,  which  stood  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  palace. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  175 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

CONTfNUATION    OF    THE    MAY-DAY    REVELS. 

THE  sun  rose  brightly  from  the  sea  upon  May-day  morning, 
and  Maudsley,  who  had  found  but  slight  and  unsatisfactory 
repose  within  his  hut,  stood  upon  the  summit  of  the  mount,  and 
refreshed  his  weary  soul  with  a  contemplation  of  the  majestic 
scenery  around  him.  Although  he  was  by  nature  of  a  wayward 
and  impetuous  disposition,  and  although  his  prejudices,  from  the 
earliest  period  of  his  life,  had  enlisted  him  strongly  against  the 
gloomy  and  austere  principles  of  Puritanism,  he  could  not  but 
confess,  as  he  looked  upon  that  solemn  and  impressive  wilder 
ness  scene,  so  full  of  fresh  and  uncontaminated  beauty,  that  it 
were  indeed  a  prostitution  of  nature,  if  the  virgin  purity,  the 
cool  and  shady  loveliness  of  this  sylvan  world  were  to  be  pro 
faned  forever  by  orgies  such  as  he  had  already  witnessed.  He 
could  not  but  confess,  and  perhaps  there  was  something  within 
his  bosom  responsive  to  the  enthusiastic  spirit  of  Esther  Ludlow, 
which  suggested  the  thought,  that  it  were  a  nobler  destination  for 
this  stern  and  unappropriated  wilderness,  to  become  a  new  realm 
for  earnest  and  self-sustained  enthusiasts  who  had  become  weary 
of  the  older  world,  than  to  fall  under  the  base  dominion  of  the 
scum  of  Europe,  conducted  thither  by  leaders  impelled  by 
purposes  of  self-aggrandizement,  and  seeking  only  to  transplant 
upon  this  wild  territory  the  worn-out  follies,  the  decrepid  pur 
poses,  the  reeking  crimes  of  civilization.  He  thought,  as  he 
stood  alone  upon  that  cliff,  of  the  contrast  between  the  grovelling 
pursuits  and  the  ribald  character  of  the  men  who  dwelt  around, 


176  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  the  lofty  if  fanatical  nature  of  those,  concerning  whose 
welfare  and  success  he  could  not,  in  spite  of  himself,  but  parti 
cipate  somewhat  in  the  interest  which  was  so  enthusiastically 
felt  by  Esther.  He  imagined  that  even  he,  too,  felt  that  within 
him  which  could  abjure  the  world,  where  he  had  dwelt  till  he 
had  found  or  fancied  himself  weary  of  its  follies,  and  he  aban 
doned  himself  for  a  moment  to  a  vague  dream  of  what  hap 
piness  there  might  be  in  this  beautiful  land,  alone  with  one  who 
was  dearer  to  him  than  the  whole  world  beside,  when  suddenly 
the  dark  shadow  of  the  knight  rose  upon  his  fancy,  and  dispelled 
in  an  instant  the  soothing  vision.  At  a  moment  when  he  was 
struggling  to  shake  off  the  thoughts  which  were  again  thronging 
to  his  brain,  he  was  awakened  at  once  to  a  vivid  perception  of 
the  world  about  him,  by  a  variety  of  shrill  and  uproarious 
sounds  which  issued  from  the  forest.  At  first,  so  entirely  had  he 
forgotten  the  mummery  of  the  preceding  evening,  and  the  prom 
ised  sports  of  the  present  day,  he  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
the  sounds,  but  as  soon  as  he  observed  one  or  two  of  his  late 
companions  emerging  from  the  woods,  he  recollected  that  the 
May  morning  had  arrived,  and  he  descended  from  the  eminence 
towards  the  open  glade. 

In  a  few  moments  the  whole  wild  crew,  who  had  passed  the 
night  in  the  forest,  had  entered  upon  the  open  field,  and  after  a 
short  pause  formed  a  procession  and  moved  slowly  towards  the 
mount.  They  were  bringing  home  the  May-pole,  which  was  a 
vast  pine  nearly  a  hundred  feet  in  length.  The  tree  had  been 
stripped  of  its  bark  and  branches,  ornamented  with  garlands  of 
wintergreen  and  forest-tree  blossoms,  and  placed  upon  rudely 
constructed  wheels.  In  place  of  oxen,  some  fifty  savages  were 
yoked  together,  each  wearing  May  garlands  upon  their  swarthy 
brows,  and  evidently  taking  a  grave  satisfaction  in  thus  assisting 
at  a  solemn  ceremony,  which  Bootefish  had  assured  them  was  an 
initiatory  step  towards  their  conversion  from  paganism,  and 


MERRY-MOUNT.  177 


which  was  sure  to  require  copious  besprinklings  of  the  strong 
water,  which  they  worshipped  as  the  white  man's  God. 

Thus  harnessed,  the  savages  drew  the  mighty  May-pole  slowly 
along,  with  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  seated  upon  it  in  solemn 
state.  The  rest  of  the  company  thronged  around  him  in  his 
triumphal  progress,  marching  in  unison  to  the  braying  of  trum 
pets  and  the  thump  of  drums,  whose  rude  music  sounded  strange 
ly  among  those  ancient  woods.  After  a  time,  and  with  great 
efforts,  the  May-pole  was  at  last  brought  to  the  top  of  the 
Merry-Mount,  where,  after  a  pair  of  elk  antlers  had  been 
fastened  to  its  top,  and  the  red  cross  banner  of  England,  with  a 
variety  of  other  pennons,  added  to  its  other  decorations,  it  was 
triumphantly  erected  upon  the  summit.  Many  shouts  of  con 
gratulation  now  rent  the  air,  and  then  the  company,  a  little 
wearied  with  their  exertions,  threw  themselves  upon  the  ground 
for  a  few  moments'  repose.  Morton  and  several  of  his  adherents 
now  withdrew  for  a  time  from  the  mount,  leaving  the  company 
under  the  charge  of  his  lieutenant  and  grand  master  of  the  cere 
monies;  who,  after  serving  out  to  them  what  he  considered  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  liquor,  soon  after  retired  himself.  A 
grand  arbor  was  now  constructed  of  green  branches  upon  the 
hill,  not  far  from  the  May-pole,  and  another  of  lesser  dimensions 
near  it.  A  considerable  time  had  thus  been  spent,  and  the  sun  was 
already  approaching  the  zenith,  when  suddenly  the  music  again 
was  heard  advancing  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  palace,  and 
presently  a  fantastically  attired  company  were  seen  advancing 
gravely  toward  the  mount.  The  procession  was  led  by  the  sove 
reign  of  Merry-Mount  himself,  who,  as  Lord  of  the  May,  was 
attired  according  to  immemorial  custom  in  the  green  forest  garb 
of  Robin  Hood.  He  wore  moreover  upon  his  head  a  gilt  and 
glittering  crown,  and  held  a  gilded  staff  in  his  hand,  as  symbols 
of  his  supremacy.  Hanging  upon  his  arm,  came  a  dark-eyed, 
dusky  daughter  of  the  forest,  who,  for  lack  of  a  fairer  representa- 


178  MERRY-MOUNT. 


tive,  was  arrayed  as  Maid  Marian,  the  May  Lord's  favorite  dame. 
She  too,  as  Queen  of  the  May,  wore  a  gilded  crown  upon  her 
swarthy  brows,  with  her  glossy  black  tresses  floating  almost  to 
her  feet,  and  was  arrayed  in  gaily  colored  robes  of  purple  and 
crimson  cloth.  They  were  followed  by  Cakebread,  who  had  re 
covered  from  the  effects  of  the  flagellation  received  at  Mishawum, 
and  who  now  figured  as  court  jester.  The  respectable  buffoon 
wore  a  fool's-cap  and  bells,  a  motley  coat,  with  tight-fitting  Vene 
tian  pantaloons,  whereof  one  leg  was  of  flame  color  and  the 
other  of  purple.  He  held  a  bauble  or  fool's  baton  in  his  hand, 
and  his  dress  was  hung  with  little  bells,  which  jingled  merrily  as 
he  danced  along,  occasionally  refreshing  himself  and  the  spec 
tators  with  one  of  his  favorite  somersets.  Next  came  the  grave 
and  dignified  Bootefish  as  Friar  Tuck,  his  short  but  portly  per 
son  arrayed  in  a  monkish  robe  bound  about  his  ample  waist  with 
a  cord  from  which  hung  a  rosary  and  cross,  and  his  rubicund 
physiognomy  looking  particularly  effulgent,  as  it  broke  out  like 
the  rising  sun  from  the  dark  and  cloud-like  cowl  which  covered 
his  venerable  head.  Rednape  followed  as  the  lover  of  Maid 
Marian,  wearing  a  tawdry  cap,  ornamented  with  a  wreath  of 
violets,  fastened  securely  to  the  right  side  of  his  head,  and  a 
sky-blue  jacket;  while  his  long  legs  were  daintily  incased  in 
scarlet  breeches  and  hose,  cross  gartered,  and  with  countless 
ribbons  and  true  lover's  knots  streaming  from  every  portion  of 
his  dress.  Next  came  the  Spanish  gentleman  and  the  Morisco, 
personated  by  less  distinguished  members  of  the  company,  and 
wearing  immoderately  loose  breeches,  curling  shoes  of  a  yard's 
dimension,  and  enormous,  empty  sleeves  hanging  from  their 
gaily  colored  jerkins.  The  principal  musical  performer  fol 
lowed,  with  a  drum  hanging  from  his  neck,  a  tamborine  in  his 
hand,  and  a  lathe  sword  at  his  side.  Next  came  a  creature  with 
a  wolfs  head  and  a  fox's  tail,  with  half  a  dozen  green  and  golden 
snakes  wreathed  round  his  waist;  after  him,  a  kind  of  goblin 


MERRY-MOUNT.  179 


wearing  the  grim  head  and  portentous  teeth  of  a  shark,  with  a 
dragon's  tail ;  then  several  palmers  masqued  and  cloaked  ;  then  a 
jack-in-the-green,  or  living  pyramid  of  blossoming*  branches, 
dancing  grotesquely  along  to  the  wild  music  which  accompanied 
the  procession.  Last  of  all  came  the  merry  Bernaby  Doryfall, 
riding  the  hobby-horse,  the  animal's  head  and  shoulders  artisti 
cally  contrived  of  pasteboard,  while  an  ample  housing,  or  rather 
petticoat  of  parti-colored  cloth,  descended  to  the  ground,  and 
effectually  concealed  the  rider's  legs.  The  amiable  Centaur 
wore  a  pumpkin  helmet  of  formidable  appearance,  and  flourished 
a  wooden  dagger  in  his  right  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  reined 
in  his  restive  steed  as  he  gaily  pranced  and  capered  about, 
bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  pageant  in  a  very  effective  style. 

The  procession  ascended  the  mount  in  an  orderly  manner, 
and  arranged  themselves  about  the  May-pole,  while  the  rest  of 
the  revellers  arose  from  their  recumbent  positions  and  stood, 
awaiting  the  orders  of  their  sovereign.  That  potentate  now  took 
a  roll  of  paper  from  his  bosom,  upon  which  he  had  inscribed  a. 
short  poem,  setting  forth,  in  very  high  flown  and  classical  dog 
gerel,  an  allegorical  description  of  the  ceremony,  combined  with 
many  enigmatical  allusions  to  the  present  and  prospective  condi 
tion  of  the  nascent  empire  of  the  Massachusetts.*  This,  after  he 
had  read  it  in  a  sonorous  and  impressive  voice,  he  gravely 
affixed  to  the  May-pole,  that  it  might  serve  for  the  edification  of 
his  guests,  whenever  they  felt  inclined  for  literary  relaxation. 
Then,  with  an  indescribable  air  of  majesty,  he  again  extended 
his  hand  to  the  dusky  Queen  of  the  Revels,  and  conducted  her 
with  stately  step  to  the  great  arbor,  where  he  seated  her  upon  a 
rustic  throne.  Then  advancing  once  more  in  front  of  the  ver 
dant  tent,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  With  gilded  staff  and  crossed  scarf,  the  May  Lord,  here  I  stand." 
*  See  Note  V. 


180  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Know  ye,  therefore,  my  faithful  subjects,  that  your  sports  are 
to  be  conducted  in  an  orderly  and  reputable  guise,  so  as  in  no 
wise  to  cast  discredit  upon  the  court  of  your  sovereign,  or  to 
invoke  a  blush  upon  the  tender  cheek  of  our  loving  queen,  — 

'  Music,  awake !  ye  lieges  all  advance, 
And  circling  join  in  merry  Morrice  dance.'  " 

Thus  having  spoken,  the  merry  monarch  seated  himself  at  the 
side  of  his  queen,  while  the  whole  of  the  company,  Christians 
and  heathens,  friars  and  dragons,  palmers,  masquers  and  mum 
mers  all  joined  hand  in  hand,  and  danced  madly  about  the  May 
pole.  Round  and  round  they  frisked,  their  brains,  already  heated 
with  draughts  stronger  than  May-dew,  whirling  faster  than  their 
heels,  and  their  many  voices,  frantic  with  unbridled  excitement, 
ringing  forth  upon  the  solemn  wilderness  around  them  so  wildly 
and  discordantly,  that  the  very  beasts  which  peopled  the  forests 
might  have  shrunk  to  their  caves  in  dismay.  Round  and  round 
they  whirled,  shouting,  laughing,  yelling  ;  now  some  of  them 
rolling  by  dozens  upon  the  earth,  and  dragged  about  by  their 
companions  till  they  found  their  feet  again  ;  now  the  more 
active  of  them  leaping  and  curvetting  over  each  other's  heads, 
or  frisking  about  upon  each  other's  shoulders,  the  riders  halloo 
ing  in  triumph  and  the  victims  staggering  blindly  about,  but  all 
yelling  and  leaping  as  if  the  wild  and  stunning  music  which  still 
played  more  and  more  furiously  had  maddened  their  senses  or 
transformed  them  into  goblins.  Faster  and  faster  flew  their 
heels,  louder  arid  louder  sounded  the  diabolical  strains  of  the 
music,  more  fierce  and  frantic  rose  the  piercing  shouts ;  startling 
the  echoes  of  the  stern  and  savage  hills  around  them,  which 
seemed  to  reverberate  an  indignant  response  to  their  demoniacal 
merriment. 

Suddenly  Cakebread,  the  jestef,  broke  from  the  circle  and 
frisked  forth  into  the  centre  of  the  group,  shaking  his  bauble, 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  commanding  silence.  The  whirling  vortex  paused  for  a 
moment  in  its  mad  career,  and  the  revellers,  knowing  scarcely  if 
they  stood  upon  heads  or  heels,  became  stationary  for  a  moment, 
to  listen  to  his  communication. 

"Look  ye,  my  masters,"  he  cried,  "this  is  indeed  the  music 
of  the  spheres,  though  something  cracked  and  discordant  it  may 
be,  arid  this  the  circling  of  the  starry  hosts  around  the  sun. 
Beshrew  me,  though,  but  these  whirls  be  faster  than  befitteth 
some  of  the  planets.  As  for  me,  I  am  a  comet,  bound  to  no 
orbit,  and  dance  but  for  my  own  pleasure.  If  ye  will  that  I 
execute  a  hornpipe,  such  as  my  virtuous  dam,  whom  the  Lord 
assoilzie,  was  wont  to  delight  the  world  withal,  so  —  if  not,  may 
the  devil  blow  his  trumpet,  and  set  ye  all  whirling  again  —  but 
the  comet  shall  break  loose  from  your  influences." 

Peter,  it  should  be  observed,  was  fond  of  stating  confidentially 
to  his  friends  that  his  parents  had  both  been  rope-dancers  and 
fire-eaters  by  profession,  and  that  he  had  been  brought  up  from 
earliest  childhood  to  their  respectable  calling.  Furthermore,  he 
was  apt  to  mention  that  his  destiny  in  life  had  been  perverted  by 
a  pious  and  charitable  schoolmaster,  who  had  attempted  to  save 
him,  like  a  brand  from  the  burning,  and  had  instructed  him  in 
Latin  and  the  humanities,  but  had  thrown  him  away  again 
afterwards.  By  this  process  he  hud  acquired  an  enlightened 
education,  but  had  lost  his  ancestral  calling,  and  had  become 
neither  flesh  nor  fish,  and  only  fitted  for  a  buffoon.  This  may 
serve  to  explain  his  vein  of  conversation,  occasionally  more  am 
bitious  than  that  of  his  confederates. 

The  company  signified  their  approbation  of  his  intentions, 
and  accordingly  Peter  Cakebread  came  forward,  his  eyes  glitter 
ing  with  merriment,  and  executed  his  promised  hornpipe  with 
wonderful  zeal  and  agility,  and  in  a  manner  to  do  credit  to  his 
parentage  and  education.  Never  before,  at  least  in  that  wilder 
ness,  were  seen  such  prodigious  caperings,  such  impossible 

VOL.   I.  16 


182  MERRY-MOUNT. 


pigeon  wings,  such  a  breathless  profusion  of  miraculous  somer 
sets,  such  a  hopeless  confusion  and  entanglement  of  head,  heels, 
arms,  and  legs,  in  one  rapid  and  bewildering  contortion.  Mer 
rily  jingled  the  jester's  bells  upon  foolscap,  jerkin,  and  bauble, 
as  he  span  and  gambolled  about,  and  merrily  did  the  company 
applaud,  as  they  gazed  with  open  mouths  and  staring  eyes  upon 
this  exhibition  of  his  dexterity,  and  swore  that  he  must  have 
made  a  compact  with  the  evil  one,  and  exchanged  his  soul  for  a 
skeleton  of  whalebone,  so  superhuman  did  his  pranks  appear. 
In  short,  Peter  Cakebread  outdid  himself,  and  seemed  to  have 
combined  and  embodied  within  himself,  at  least  for  that  occa 
sion,  all  the  extraordinrry  and  necromantic  qualities  of  his 
departed  and  illustrious  parents.  As  he  finished  his  dance,  by 
standing  stock-still  upon  the  point  of  one  toe,  in  the  most  grace 
ful  and  preternatural  manner,  he  was  greeted  with  noisy  plaudits, 
in  which  the  sovereign  of  the  revels  heartily  joined,  as  he  sat 
there  upon  his  rustic  throne. 

"  Excellent  well,  Master  Cakebread,"  he  cried  ;  "  of  a  truth 
thou  hast  surpassed  thyself.  A  merrier  buffoon,  a  nimbler  mor- 
rice-dancer,  '  choreis  aptior  et  jocis/  it  could  hardly  have  been 
my  lot  to  meet  with  in  this  savage  wilderness.  Thy  sovereign 
drinks  to  thy  health,  and  the  gentle  Marian  likewise,"  he  con 
cluded,  after  touching  with  his  lips  the  tankard  presented  offi 
ciously  by  Bootefish,  and  then  extending  it  to  the  dusky  sharer 
of  his  throne,  who,  nothing  loth,  did  due  honor  to  the  toast,  or  at 
least  to  the  tankard,  which  she  seemed  better  to  understand. 

After  Cakebread  had  finished  his  dance,  and  had  meekly  and 
modestly  returned  thanks  for  the  applause  so  generously  be 
stowed  upon  his  exertions,  the  master  of  ceremonies  came  for 
ward  with  an  important  air,  and  conferred  gravely  with  his 
sovereign. 

"  Thou  art  right,  worthy  Robin,"  answered  that  potentate,  up 
on  receiving  this  communication  ;  "  truly  the  chariot  of  Phoebus 


MERRY-MOUNT.  183 


is  already  wheeling  from  its  zenith,  and  the  day  will  yet  prove 
too  short  for  our  sports  if  we  use  not  better  diligence.  Let  the 
pyramid  of  tankards  and  trinkets  be  erected,  that  the  rosy  milk 
maids,  according  to  immemorial  custom,  may  dance  for  their 
simple  prizes  about  it." 

Bootefish  accordingly  beckoned  two  or  three  of  the  revellers 
to  his  assistance,  while  the  rest  remained  recumbent  upon  the 
grass,  pledging  each  other  in  the  fiery  liquor,  and  laughing 
uproariously  at  the  jibes  of  Cakebread,  who,  stimulated  by  the 
applause  which  he  had  received,  and  the  copious  draughts  which 
he  had  imbibed,  exerted  his  utmost  powers  worthily  to  discharge 
the  high  functions  of  court  jester,  which  had  been  conferred 
upon  him  by  his  sovereign. 

Presently  Bootefish  and  his  assistants  had  erected  upon  the 
mount,  about  half  way  between  the  May-pole  and  Robin  Hood's 
arbor,  a  tall  pyramid  of  tankards,  pewter  plates,  and  flagons, 
which  were  to  be  used  at  the  ensuing  banquet,  and  garnished 
it  with  ribbons,  small  looking-glasses,  strings  of  gaudy  beads, 
gaily-colored  strips  of  cloth,  and  a  profusion  of  such  cheap  and 
trifling  finery,  as  was  most  pleasing  to  savage  eyes.  He  then 
apprized  the  lord  of  the  revels  that  the  pyramid  was  ready. 

"  Be  it  it  known  to  ye,  my  lieges,"  said  Morton,  rising  to 
address  his  subjects,  that  the  milk-maid's  dance  is  one  of  the 
most  ancient  and  time-honored  customs  of  the  May-day,  and 
that  no  festivity  in  honor  of  our  sovereign  lady  could  be  es 
teemed  complete,  where  this  most  graceful  and  becoming  cere 
mony  was  wanting.  Rings,  chains,  gooches,  ribbons,  and  such 
simple  bravery,  are  the  appropriate  rewards  for  the  gentle  con 
tenders.  It  were  a  burning  shame,  if  this  custom,  thus  honored 
throughout  the  Christian  land  of  our  birth,  should  be  omitted  in 
this  our  first  festivity  in  this  benighted  wilderness.  The  dance 
of  the  rosy  milk-maids,  pleasing  and  pretty  as  it  is,  can  in  no 
wise  be  dispensed  with.  Rosy  milk-maids,  coine  forth  ! " 


]84  MERRV-MOUNT. 


At  this  concluding  exclamation  of  Morton,  his  faithful  master 
of  the  ceremonies  gravely  led  forth  a  band  of  savage  maidens, 
who  had  easily  been  prevailed  upon,  by  promises  of  liberal  re 
ward,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  glittering  gewgaws  which  were 
conspicuously  displayed  upon  the  pyramid,  to  agree  to  take 
share  in  the  pageant. 

The  rosy  milk-maids,  accordingly,  as  the  Lord  of  Merry- 
mount  facetiously  designated  these  dusky  daughters  of  the  forest, 
came  forward,  hand  in  hand.  Though  differing  widely  from 
the  buxom  lasses  of  England,  their  prototypes  upon  this  occa 
sion,  yet  there  was  something  far  from  disagreeable  in  these 
lithe  and  graceful  creatures,  with  their  bright,  savage  eyes,  sup 
ple  limbs,  and  elastic  movements.  They  joined  hand  in  hand, 
and  executed  gracefully  one  of  their  own  wild  dances,  ever  and 
anon,  accompanying  their  airy  bounds  with  sudden,  shrill,  but 
not  unmusical  snatches  of  rude  vocal  music.  Their  country 
men,  mingled  with  their  paler-faced  confederates,  looked  on 
with  dignified  composure,  occasionally  applauding  their  vigorous 
whirls  with  a  deep  grunt  of  approval.  When  the  dance  was 
finished,  they  stood  stock-still,  and  received  at  the  hands  of  the 
master  of  ceremonies,  the  prizes  which  were  suspended  from 
the  pyramid,  with  a  composure  and  dignity  which  might  have 
befitted  princesses.  There  was  no  struggling,  no  snatching,  no 
exultation  of  manner,  but  they  quietly  adorned  their  swarthy, 
but  exquisitely  moulded  persons,  with  the  various  petty  decora 
tions  which  they  received,  and  then  gracefully  and  silently  with 
drew  towards  the  principal  group  of  revellers. 

The  company  were  now  refreshed  with  a  slight  repast  of  dried 
venison  and  bear's  meat,  of  which  they  partook  as  they  reclined 
together  upon  the  grass,  and  when  the  meal  was  concluded  the 
sports  were  resumed.  There  were  now  many  games  of  skill  and 
strength  exhibited.  A  mark  was  set  up  at  the  extremity  of  the 
mound,  and  the  savages  and  Christians  contested  with  each 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


other  with  the  bow  and  arrow,  in  which,  as  was  observed  with 
considerable  satisfaction  by  the  sovereign,  the  palm  of  superiority 
was  by  no  means  always  to  be  awarded  to  the  Indians,  but  was 
fully  as  often  due  to  his  more  immediate  subjects,  who  manfully 
contended  for  victory  with  their  swarthy  allies.  The  savage 
was  foiled  at  his  own  weapons.  Perhaps  it  was  the  lire-water 
which  dimmed  his  eye  and  rendered  his  nerves  unsteady,  while 
it  left  comparatively  unaffected  the  more  practised  organizations 
of  the  English.  Games  of  wrestling,  Indian  hug  and  trip  and 
twitch  succeeded,  in  which  the  savages,  with  their  slippery  skins, 
almost  naked  persons,  and  pliable  limbs,  were  almost  constantly 
victorious.  Then  there  were  merry  bouts  with  the  quarter 
staff,  in  which  the  hardy  Saxon  regained  his  lost  supremacy, 
while  many  a  broken  head  and  bloody  coxcomb  dealt  liberally 
among  the  heathen  champions,  attested  the  prowess  of  the  Eng 
lish  at  their  own  national  game.  Late  and  long  were  the  games 
protracted,  and  long  and  loud  continued  the  uproar  and  the  mer 
riment.  The  sun  was  now  fast  approaching  the  horizon,  and 
the  hardy  frames  both  of  pagan  and  Christian  would  have  been 
well  nigh  exhausted,  but  for  the  liberal  circulation  of  the  butler'^ 
flagon,  which  still  flew  gaily  around,  wherever  a  feeling  of  lassi 
tude  seemed  creeping  over  the  revellers.  As  the  subtle  influence 
mounted  to  their  brains,  again  their  spirits  kindled,  again  their 
frames  became  instinct  with  renovated  vigor,  as  if  the  wand  of  / 
an  enchanter  had  been  waved  above  their  heads. 

To  the  games  of  wrestling  and  quarter  staff,  which  had  been 
conducted  with  orderly  precision,  now  succeeded  a  general  pell- 
mell,  in  which  all  parties,  old  and  young,  male  and  female, 
Saxon  and  savage,  mingled  in  desperate  and  bewildering  confu 
sion,  hugging,  tumbling,  knocking,  thumping,  tripping,  twitch 
ing,  pulling,  leaping,  dancing,  singing,  whooping  and  hallooing, 
as  if  they  had  all  gone  mad. 

At  last  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  extended  his  hand  to  his  sav- 
16* 


186  MERRY-MOUNT. 


age  queen,  and  led  her  forth  with  majestic  grace  towards  the  May 
pole.  Both,  wearing  their  golden  crowns  upon  their  heads  and 
decked  in  royal  robes,  now  danced  a  slow  and  stately  measure, 
and  then,  with  agreeable  condescension,  joining  hand  in  hand 
with  the  whole  group  of  revellers,  they  commenced  once  more 
the  merry  Morrice  dance,  the  sovereign  accompanying  his  steps 
by  singing  in  a  clear,  melodious  voice  the  initiatory  verses  of  the 
song  to  which  he  had  alluded.  The  whole  assembly  pealed  out 
the  chorus,  making  a  din  loud  enough  as  they  did  so,  to  shame 
the  howling  of  the  forest  wolves.  When  the  song  was  con 
cluded,  the  monarch  and  his  queen  slipped  out  from  the  throng, 
while  the  rest  continued  leaping  and  frisking  about  the  May 
pole,  in  a  rapidly  revolving  circle,  which  increased  every  instant 
in  its  dizzy  speed,  till  one  after  another,  overpowered  by  his  ex 
ertions,  was  sucked  into  the  merry  whirlpool  and  sank  overcome 
upon  the  ground.  The  revellers,  thus  fairly  danced  off  their 
legs,  remained  reposing  upon  the  sward  for  a  few  minutes,  till 
the  master  of  ceremonies  again  sounded  his  trumpet,  when  all, 
suddenly  inspired  with  renewed  vigor,  sprang  to  their  feet  again, 
and  marshaled  by  the  indefatigable  Bootefish,  formed  again  into 
solemn  procession  and  marched  down  the  mount  towards  the 
palace. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

MORE    MYSTERY. 

THE  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  forest-crowned  hills.  The 
golden  and  violet  hues  which  fringed  the  robe  of  the  departing 
day,  were  already  mingling  with  the  dusky  purple  of  the  twi 
light.  The  last  lingering  glow  upon  the  summits  of  the  pines 
had  faded.  The  revellers  had  left  the  scene,  whose  shady  loveli 
ness  their  gambols  had  profaned.  Mauds! ey  alone  remained 
upon  the  hill,  feeling  a  sensation  of  relief,  that  his  ear  was  for 
the  moment  no  longer  vexed  with  the  howlings,  nor  his  eye 
offended  by  the  grimaces  of  the  crew  who  had  been  keeping 
their  long  holiday  upon  the  now  silent  mount. 

"  And  did  the  gentle  and  sylvan  sports  of  merry  England," 
said  lie,  musingly  to  himself,  "  indeed  resemble  this  grotesque 
buffoonery,  I  could  even  find  it  in  my  heart  to  sympathize  with 
the  Puritans'  hatred  of  all  holidays  and  pastimes.  Did  the 
graceful  and  poetical  festivities,  by  which  the  genial  summer,  in 
olden  times  and  lands,  was  ushered  to  her  throne,  bear  affinity 
to  the  frantic  orgies  which  have  this  day  been  enacted,  I  could 
honor  the  stern  enthusiasts,  who  would  trample  upon  such  mum 
meries.  Methinks  I  feel  my  brow  burning  with  confusion  at 
having  looked  so  long  and  so  listlessly  upon  fantastic  pranks, 
fouler  even  than  the  bacchanalian  rites  of  ancient  fable,  and 
which  might  have  shamed  a  crew  of  leaping  satyrs." 

As  Maudsley  thus  moralized,  he  was  startled  by  hearing  a 
sound  of  altercation  in  the  valley  below  him.  He  turned  his 
eyes  in  the  direction  whence  the  sounds  proceeded,  and  saw 
several  figures,  evidently  belonging  to  the  company,  who  had 


188  MERRY-MOUNT. 


recently  entered  the  palace,  and  who  seemed,  so  far  as  he  could 
discern  in  the  gathering  twilight,  to  be  collected  in  a  group 
about  a  person  wrapped  in  a  mantle,  who  appeared  desirous  of 
disengaging  himself  from  the  rest. 

He  descended  noiselessly  from  the  hill,  and  advanced  unper- 
ceived  towards  the  disputants. 

"  Stole  away,  stole  away,"  cried  a  mocking  voice,  which 
Maudsley  recognised  as  that  of  Cakebread  ;  "  no,  no,  my  pretty 
master,  'tis  not  for  thee  to  treat  with  such  disdain  the  hospitality 
of  the  puissant  Lord  of  Merry-Mount.  I  tell  thee  I  am  sent  to 
bid  thee  return  to  the  banquet.  I  am  ordered  to  conduct  thee 
thither,  by  our  sovereign  potentate  himself." 

"  And  tell  thy  sovereign  potentate,"  said  a  voice,  in  whose 
irritated,  but  musical  tones  Maudsley  recognised  something 
familiar,  "  that  enforced  hospitality  is  an  insult  which  I  will  not 
brook.  I  am  master  of  my  own  movements,  and  look  ye,  I 
purpose  to  go  forth  from  Merry-Mount  upon  the  instant.  So 
commend  me  to  your  sovereign,  as  you  style  him,  and  tell  him 
as  much  in  answer  to  his  message. 

"  But  I  tell  thee,  Master  Malapert,"  answered  Cakebread,  who 
still  acted  as  spokesman  of  the  detaining  party,  "  that  I  have 
special  orders  from  the  sovereign  to  bring  thee  back,  and  at 
once.  So  obey  the  monarch's  behest,  and  that  cheerfully  and 
instantaneously,  or  else  I  shall  arrest  thee  by  virtue  of  this  rod 
of  office,"  and  thus  saying,  the  jester  shook  his  bauble  till  the 
bells  rang  again  in  the  face  of  him  who  seemed  thus  determined 
to  withdraw. 

"  And  I  tell  thee,  Master  Mountebank,  that  I  give  thee  special 
orders  to  leave  me,  and  that  instantaneously,"  answered  the 
stranger,  in  a  still  more  angry  tone;  "  go  back  to  thy  master,  and 
bid  him  choose,  in  future,  a  less  insolent  buffoon  to  bear  his 
messages." 

"  And  how  if  the  buffoon,"  answered  the   other  in  the  same 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


mocking  tones,  "  decline  to  profane  the  ear  of  majesty  with  in 
sults,  such  as  his  mind  is  unlikely  to  digest?" 

"  Then  keep  them  for  thyself,"  was  the  reply;  "I  trow  thy 
mind  can  digest  them  as  easily  as  thy  back  can  brook  the 
lash." 

The  jester,  somewhat  stung  by  this  allusion,  was  about 
making  a  still  more  irritating  reply,  when  the  long  and  ungainly 
figure  of  Reduapc  thrust  itself  between  the  disputants. 

"  Truly,"  said  he,  "  I  am  inclined  to  look  at  the  face  of  this 
high  flying  youngster,  which  he  has  kept  covered  all  day  so 
daintily.  Who  knows,  Master  Cakebread,  but  this  be  some 
villainous  spy,  sent  among  us  by  the  saints.  Come,  come,  my 
young  master,  off  with  your  hood  and  mantle,  honesty  should 
never  be  ashamed  to  show  its  face  in  any  company." 

At  this  remark,  the  youth  only  pulled  the  hood  of  his  cloak 
more  closely  about  his  features,  and  Maudsley,  who  had  now 
cautiously  advanced  still  nearer,  saw  that  he  was  one  of  those, 
who,  masked  and  disguised  as  palmers,  had  been  present  during 
the  day's  festivities,  but  who,  as  he  had  accidentally  remarked, 
had  kept  as  far  as  possible  aloof  from  the  crowd  of  revellers. 

Rednape,  somewhat  puzzled  by  the  determined  resistance  of 
the  youth,  stood  for  a  moment  awkward  and  irresolute,  and 
apparently  unwilling  to  proceed  to  extremities,  when  Cakebread, 
who  seemed  to  have  reasons  of  his  own  for  detaining  the  depart 
ing  guest,  whispered  something  in  his  comrade's  ear. 

"  Sayest  thou  so  ?  sayest  thou  so  1  "  said  the  ungainly  vaga 
bond,  apparently  astonished  at  the  information  which  he  had 
received,  "  then,  mayhap,  it  were  safer  not  to  meddle  with  him, 
for  if  ever  man  had  the  devil  for  his  most  particular  and  confi 
dential  ." 

"  Nonsense,  man,  I  tell  thee  it  will  be  worth  a  handful  of 
golden  angels  to  thee  ;  still  an'  thou  lackest  courage;  why  I  shall 
even  take  the  liberty  myself  to  unmask  this  pretty  gentleman." 


190  MERRY-MOUNT. 


And  thus  saying,  Cakebread,  relying  upon  the  support  of  his 
confederate,  Rednape,  ventured  to  pluck  the  slight  and  seem 
ingly  friendless  stranger  by  the  cloak.  "  I  bid  thee  once  more 
come  along  with  me  into  the  presence,"  he  cried,  "  and  that, 
too,  wearing  thine  own  natural  features.  What,  man,  the  mask 
ing  and  mumming  be  all  over,  and ." 

The  stripling,  enraged  at  this  assault  upon  his  person,  started 
suddenly  back  from  the  jester's  clutches,  and  throwing  back  the 
short  mantle  from  his  right  shoulder,  suddenly  brandished  a 
dagger  in  his  assailant's  face. 

"Now,  by  heaven,  my  patience  is  exhausted  indeed,"  he  cried 
in  a  voice  of  passion  ;  "  lay  your  ruffianly  fingers  upon  me  again, 
—  interpose  yourself  an  instant  longer  to  my  departure,  and  I 
will  stab  you  to  the  heart." 

The  cowardly  Cakebread,  appalled  at  this  intrepid  demeanor 
of  the  stranger,  shrunk  hastily  behind  the  awkward  form  of  Red- 
nape,  crying  out  as  he  did  so, 

"  To  him,  Humphrey,  to  him !  Down  with  the  murderous, 
blood-thirsty  ruffian,  down  with  the  sanguinary  spy,  down  with 
the  disguised  assassin,  down  with  him,  Humphrey." 

Thus  appealed  to  by  his  confederate,  and  obeying  the  brutal 
instincts  of  his  nature,  Rednape  plucked  his  sword  from  its 
sheath,  and  rushed  desperately  upon  the  stranger,  who,  at  the 
moment  when  he  saw  himself  temporarily  disengaged  from  his 
first  tormentor,  had  suddenly  attempted  to  save  himself  from  the 
unequal  contest  by  flight.  The  two  other  vagabonds,  however, 
who  had,  apparently  from  curiosity,  followed  Cakebread  and  his 
companion  from  the  palace,  now  interposed  themselves  to  his 
retreat,  and  the  unfortunate  but  courageous  youth  was  obliged  to 
turn  and  defend  himself  against  his  enemy.  Ill  enough  it  doubt 
less  would  have  fared  with  the  victim  of  this  cowardly  attack, 
whose  slight  and  tender  frame  was  but  poorly  fitted  to  an  en 
counter  with  the  big  and  bony  miscreant  who  now  attacked  him, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  jgj 


had  not  Maudsley,  bursting  at  last  from  his  concealment,  sprung 
with  a  bound  towards  the  ferocious  Rednape. 

"  Stop,  thou  cowardly  thief,"  cried  he  indignantly;  "unhand 
that  slender  boy,  and  face  a  man,  if  thou  hast  courage  enow  for 
aught  but  robbing  hen-roosts.  Turn  here,  or  by  heaven,  I  will 
clip  thy  other  ear  for  thee  upon  the  spot,  and  cheat  the  pillory  of 
its  due." 

Rednape,  thus  purposely  taunted  by  Maudsley,  who  wished  to 
divert  his  rage  from  the  stranger  to  himself,  turned  suddenly 
from  the  pursuit  of  the  weaker  enemy,  and  rushed  ferociously  at 
his  new  assailant.  Maudsley  received  his  onset  with  composure, 
parried  successfully  a  desperate  blow  aimed  at  his  head,  and 
dealt  him  in  return  a  crushing  stroke  with  his  sword  which 
nearly  severed  the  ruffian's  right  arm  from  his  shoulder,  and  sent 
him  bleeding  and  howling  back  to  his  companions.  Cakebread 
and  the  two  others,  who  had  been  but  just  enabled  through  the 
deepening  twilight  to  witness  the  sudden  arrival  of  this  new  pro 
tector  of  the  stranger,  and  the  result  of  his  conflict  with  their 
champion,  desired  to  see  no  more  of  a  controversy  whose  aspect 
was  thus  decidedly  changed,  but,  without  more  ado,  took  to 
their  heels,  and  ran  with  headlong  haste  to  the  palace,  not  even 
waiting  to  see  whether  their  wounded  confederate,  who  had 
sunk  exhausted  and  groaning  upon  the  field,  were  alive  or  dead. 

The  field  being  thus  cleared  of  the  ruffians,  the  stranger,  who 
had  stood  stock-still  upon  the  arrival  of  Maudsley's  unexpected 
assistance  until  the  issue  of  the  contest,  now  advanced  towards 
his  deliverer. 

"  We  meet  again,  Harry  Maudsley,"  said  he,  with  the  silvery 
accents  in  which  Maudsley  instantly  recognised  the  voice  of 
his  mysterious  companion  at  Naumkeak.  "We  meet  again, 
Harry  Maudsley,  and  truly  I  may  thank  your  most  opportune 
assistance,  that  we  do  meet  once  more  in  this  weary  world. 
Truly  I  do  thank  you,  and  from  my  heart,  for  your  bravery,  al- 


192  MERRY-MOUNT. 


though,  alas,  you  would  wonder  that  I  should  thank  you  for  so 
worthless  a  boon  as  life,  could  you  read  my  heart  this  night." 

"I  supposed,  indeed,"  replied  Maudsley,  "that  it  was  my  en 
igmatical  and  most  shadowy  friend,  whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
assisting.  You  may  spare  your  encomiums  upon  my  bravery, 
for  it  needed  none  to  whip  away  a  pair  of  cowardly  curs,  like 
those  who  presumed  to  meddle  with  you.  But  what  do  you  here 
amid  this  wild  and  worthless  crew,  and  what  means  the  cowardly 
attack  which  was  even  now  made  upon  you?" 

"  Why  I  am  here,"  replied  the  other,  "  I  could  hardly  myself 
explain,  saving  that  I  am  but  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of 
others,  or  rather,  perhaps,  because  I  yield  without  hesitation  to 
a  destiny  which  hurries  me  hither  and  thither,  like  a  withered 
leaf  before  the  whirlwind.  You  would  with  difficulty  under 
stand  my  purposes,  even  if  I  should  endeavor  to  explain  them. 
As  to  the  obstacles  which  yonder  ruffians  interposed  to  my  de 
parture,  it  is  no  mystery  to  me,  although  no  doubt  to  you  it  is 
somewhat  inexplicable,  and  for  the  present  at  least  must  so 
remain." 

"  You  still  speak  in  parables,"  answered  Maudsley.  "  We 
meet,  in  gathering  twilight,  in  lonely  forests,  drawn  together  by 
some  irresistible  influence,  as  if  our  fates  were  bound  together 
by  an  invisible  chain.  And  yet  I  have  hardly  gazed  upon  your 
face,  except  through  dim  shadows;  you  appear  to  me,  and  you 
vanish,  like  some  spiritual  inhabitant  haunting  these  solitudes." 

"Distress  yourself  no  longer,  Master  Maudsley,"  interrupted 
his  companion.  "  I  am,  I  do  assure  you,  no  unearthly  sprite, 
but  healthy  flesh  and  blood.  I  am  now  about  to  bid  you  fare 
well,  with  one  word  of  consolation.  I  swear  to  you,  then,  that 
what  you  most  dread  shall  never  happen,  that  what  you  have 
almost  ceased  to  hope,  shall  yet  occur.  Believe  me  or  not,  but 
when  to-morrow's  sun  shall  first  shine  upon  you,  you  shall  ac 
knowledge  my  power,  for  you  shall  already  behold  its  influence. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  193 


You  shall  feel  still  more  sensibly  that  we  are  indeed  bound 
together  by  a  chain,  and  you  may,  perhaps,  remembering  the 
fidelity  with  which  I  have  hitherto  observed  my  promises,  be  the 
more  disposed  to  trust  me  for  the  future.  And  now  farewell, 
Harry  Maudsley,  and  if  you  value  the  continuance  of  our  friend 
ship,  follow  me  not." 

The  stranger  extended  both  arms  through  the  gathering  gloom 
towards  Maudsley,  as  if  he  would  have  embraced  him.  Mauds- 
ley  advanced  more  closely,  and  it  seemed  as  if  his  companion's 
arms  for  an  instant  touched  his  neck.  In  another  moment  he 
had  vanished  into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

"  'Tis  strange,"  muttered  Maudsley,  after  his  strange  com 
panion  had  left  him.  "  So  gentle  and  so  frail  a  form,  and  yet  so 
imperious  an  air,  so  bold  a  heart,  so  wayward  a  mood,  so  mystic 
a  fancy." 

He  turned  away,  but  suddenly  as  he  advanced,  his  ear  was 
struck  by  a  deep  groan,  as  of  one  in  pain. 

"Hey-day,  who  speaks?"  cried  Maudsley,  suddenly  startled 
from  his  reverie,,  and  immediately  afterwards  recollecting  more 
distinctly  what  had  happened  so  short  a  time  before.  "  By 
heavens,  if  that  be  really  the  voice  of  Humphrey  Rednape,  per 
haps  I  may  have  some  ocular  proof  that  the  whole  scene  hath 
not  been  a  creation  of  my  imagination." 

Groping  his  way  towards  the  spot  whence  the  groans  pro 
ceeded,  he  soon  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  unfor 
tunate  Rednape.  Finding  that  his  wound,  although  attended 
with  a  very  profuse  loss  of  blood,  did  not  seem  to  be  so  danger 
ous  as  he  had  at  first  supposed,  he  left  him  lying  upon  the 
ground,  while  he  coolly  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  door  of  the 
palace  upon  his  way  to  his  own  hut,  and  recommended  the  con 
dition  of  the  suffering  ruffian  to  the  particular  regards  of  several 
of  his  fraternity.  Rejecting  very  peremptorily  all  entreaties 

VOL.  i.  17 


}94  MERRY-MOUNT. 


upon  the  part  of  the  sovereign,  to  enter  the  palace  and  partake 
of  the  concluding  festivities,  and  with  eye,  ear,  and  brain  wea 
ried  with  the  fantastic  scenes  of  which  he  had  been  all  day  long 
an  unwilling  witness,  he  sought  relief  and  repose  in  the  humble 
solitude  of  his  own  dwelling. 

Long  and  loud  was  the  merriment  within  the  palace.  Fierce 
and  furious  was  the  revelry,  whose  discordant  din  vexed  hour 
after  hour  the  solemn  ear  of  night.  But  we  willingly  drop  the 
curtain  over  the  concluding  scenes  of  the  Merry-Mount  holiday. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  195 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE     MINOTAUR. 

UPON  the  afternoon  of  a  glowing  and  sultry  day,  the  solitary 
of  Shawmut  was  sauntering  beneath  the  ample  shade  of  the  oaks 
and  chestnuts  which  decorated  his  natural  park. 

A  few  weeks  had  passed  since  the  events  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter,  and  the  fervid  summer  had  already  succeeded  to  the 
coy  and  reluctant  spring.  It  was  early  June,  but,  as  is  not 
uncommon  in  a  climate  which  loves  the  intense  so  much  as  ours, 
the  heat  was  already  that  of  mid-summer. 

The  verdure  of  the  forest  as  well  as  of  the  open  glades  was  of 
that  tender  and  peculiarly  vivid  green,  which  marks  the  sum 
mer's  infancy  ;  and  the  many  flowering  trees  and  shrubs  which, 
for  a  few  brief  weeks,  decorate  themselves  at  this  genial  season 
with  their  brilliant  garlands,  seemed  to  have  changed  the  stern 
wilderness  scene  where  the  exile  dwelt  to  a  gay  and  painted 
garden.  The  red  rose  and  the  wild  eglantine  festooned  them 
selves  about  the  sterile  cliffs;  innumerable  dogwood  trees,  scat, 
tered  profusely  through  the  woods,  displayed  their  large,  white, 
magnificent  flowers  ;  the  laurel  upon  the  hill-sides  blushed  with 
its  rose-colored  chalices  ;  the  dainty  privet,  which  loves  the 
abode  of  man,  hung  over  the  rude  palisades  and  tortuous  fences 
its  clustering  and  snowy  panicles  ;  the  gaudy  iris  and  the  purple 
flower  de  luce  made  the  fountain's  edge,  the  brook-side,  and  the 
damp  meadows  gay ;  while  from  the  stern  and  hideous  morass, 
which  bounded  one  side  of  the  park,  was  diffused  the  delicious 
odor  of  the  azalea,  that  obscure  and  hidden  shrub  which  makes 
an  atmosphere  of  fragrance  about  the  foul  and  repulsive  swamps 


19(]  MERRY-MOUNT. 

where  it  abides,  like  a  sweet  and  virtuous  soul  sanctifying,  by  its 
own  perfume  and  beauty,  the  most  squalid  and  cheerless  haunts 
of  humanity.  The  woods,  the  hills,  the  plains  were  vocal  with 
the  melody  of  a  thousand  birds,  rejoicing  in  the  return  of  sum 
mer's  genial  warmth.  The  swift  and  busy  swallow  darted  to 
and  fro  about  the  roof  of  the  cottage ;  the  clear,  cheerful  note 
of  the  quail,  calling  and  responding  to  his  mate,  sounded  inces 
santly  from  the  edge  of  the  wood ;  the  plaintive  and  monotonous 
melody  of  the  thrush  resounded  throughout  the  innermost  depths 
of  the  forest ;  while  in  the  open  glades,  swinging  and  balancing 
himself  upon  the  most  slender  twigs,  the  merry  bobolink  exe 
cuted  in  masterly  style  his  brilliant  bravuras,  and  impromptu 
variations. 

The  golden  summer  day  had  been  spent  by  the  gentle  exile 
in  protracted  wanderings  through  the  forests  which  girded  his 
lonely  home.  As  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  hills,  he 
emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the  trees  where  he  had  so  long  been 
lingering,  and,  staff  in  hand,  began  to  ascend  the  crag  which 
rose  immediately  above  his  dwelling.  When  he  had  reached 
the  summit,  he  seated  himself  upon  his  favorite  spot,  and  looked 
out  upon  the  summer  sunset.  The  day  had  been  one  of  fierce 
and  unmitigated  heat,  but  towards  evening  the  white  and  cumu- 
lous  clouds  had  rolled  up,  pile  upon  pile,  before  the  gentle 
breath  of  the  south-west  wind,  and  now,  broken  into  wild  and 
fantastic  masses,  and  colored  by  the  departing  sun-shine  with 
purple,  gold,  emerald,  violet,  and  every  other  radiant  hue,  they 
stretched  in  a  flood  of  glory  along  the  western  horizon,  now  build 
ing  themselves  up  like  the  walls  and  battlements  of  towered  and 
aerial  cities,  now  changing  to  a  shadowy  but  innumerable  army, 
crowding  cohort  after  cohort,  with  glittering  spear  and  shield  and 
crimson  banner,  around  the  descending  chariot  of  the  god  of  day. 

Quivering  gently  above  the  sunset's  glow,  just  where  the  clear 
blue  of  the  upper  sky  was  mingling  with  the  emerald  green 


MERRY-MOUNT.  197 


nearer  the  horizon,  appeared  the  young  moon's  silver  bow.  Far 
along  the  northern  edge  of  the  horizon  played  the  lambent  sum 
mer's  lightning,  incessant,  gentle,  innocent* as  an  infant's  smile. 
Throughout  the  massive  foliage  of  the  scattered  trees,  which 
reared  themselves  along  the  precipitous  sides  of  the  hill,  sighed 
the  cool  breath  of  the  evening  wind.  Soothed  by  the  gentle 
influences  of  the  scene,  and  refreshed  by  the  grateful  breeze,  the 
solitary  sat  gazing  long  and  musingly  upon  the  wilderness  scene, 
which  had  already  grown  dear  to  his  heart. 

The  purple  hues  of  evening  were  already  settling  upon  the 
landscape,  when  the  hermit  heard  a  footstep  ascending  the 
narrow  pathway,  and  looking  downwards,  he  saw  presently  the 
tall  form  of  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  advancing  towards  him. 
He  felt  a  slight  sensation  of  impatience  at  this  interruption  to 
his  solitude.  The  knight  and  himself  were  connected  by  a 
slight  and  single  thread.  Blaxton  claimed  to  hold  the  peninsula 
of  Shawmut  by  eminent  domain,  acknowledging  for  himself, 
as  he  said,  no  suzerain  but  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  lie  had,  how 
ever,  so  far  recognised  the  rights  of  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges  in 
Massachusetts  as  to  allow  his  own  name  to  be  inserted  in  John 
Oldham's  lease  from  the  Gorges  family,  as  one  who  would  induct 
the  lessee  into  the  property  on  the  opposite  promontory.  He 
troubled  himself,  however,  but  little  with  such  matters,  and 
laughed  at  the  notion  of  sovereignty  in  the  wilderness. 

"  Good  even,  most  contemplative  hermit  of  the  desert." 
said  the  knight,  as  he  reached  the  summit,  "  truly  the  path  to 
this  eyrie  of  yours  is  something  of  the  steepest.  You  should 
have  the  wings  as  well  as  the  gentleness  of  the  dove,  to  inhabit 
this  mountain  top." 

"  Good  even  to  you,  Sir  Knight,"  answered  Blaxton,  "  I  am, 
as  you  say,  but  as  a  partridge  hunted  in  the  mountains,  but  I 
care  not.  I  have  escaped  the  snare  of  the  spoiler,  and  I  love  to 


198  MERRY-MOUNT. 


\A 


ascend  to  these  contemplative    heights,  and    look    down  upon 
the  world  below  me." 

"Aye,  Master  Hermit;  but  methinks  thou  shouldst  have 
the  wings  of  eagles,  as  I  but  now  remarked.  My  frame  is  some 
what  of  the  hardiest,  and  my  lungs  of  the  soundest,  but  truly 
this  precipice  is  something  of " 

"  I  carry  the  patriarch's  ladder  with  me  always,"  interrupted 
Blaxton,  "  and  climb  from  earth  to  heaven  as  I  list." 

"  Truly  a  convenient  piece  of  furniture,"  answered  the 
knight,  humoring  the  humorist,  "  and  one  that  would  be  invalu 
able  in  more  professions  than  one.  By  St.  John,  half  a  dozen 
such  scaling  ladders  in  a  siege,  would  make  short  work  of  the 
strongest  citadel  built  by  mortal  hands.  I  find  you  as  discursive 
and  contemplative  as  ever.  I  guessed,  when  I  tracked  you  to 
this  aerial  summit,  that  I  should  find  you  still  farther  removed  in 
spirit  from  the  dull  earth  which  we  have  the  misfortune  to 
inhabit.  Know  you,  perchance,  to  pass  to  other  and  more 
trivial  matters,  that  the  saints  of  Plymouth  are  mightily  enraged 
at  the  mad  pranks  lately  enacted  in  the  bay  by  my  merry  gossip, 
Thomas  Morton,  and  that  there  be  serious  intentions  of  forth 
with  ejecting  him  from  his  present  abode  by  force  of  arms?  " 

"  Truly,"  answered  the  solitary,  whose  hermit  life  had  so 
much  increased  his  natural  absence  of  mind  that  he  rarely 
heard  more  of  any  companion's  observations  than  sufficed  to 
direct  his  musings  a  little  from  their  previous  track,  without 
by  any  means  bringing  him  into  perfect  communication  with  the 
other's  mind.  "  Truly  I  have  but  little  sympathy  with  your 
saints,  whether  of  New  Plymouth  or  of  other  regions.  It 
seemeth  strange  to  me  that  a  brotherhood  of  martyrs,  who  have 
fled  to  the  wilderness  for  conscience  sake,  should  so  clumsily 
have  left  their  consciences  behind  them,  that  the  apostles  of 
liberty  in  things  spiritual,  should  have  been  so  careful  to  bring 
with  them  from  the  land  of  slavery,  the  old  bolts  and  shackles 


MERRY-MOUNT.  199 


which  have  so  long  been  festering  upon  their  own  limbs.  A  martyr 
it  seemeth  is  but  a  bigot  after  all,  and  our  fugitive  martyrs  have 
been  somewhat  too  careful  to  bring  a  brand  from  the  funeral 
pyres  of  their  murdered  brethren  at  home,  to  light  new  faggots 
for  their  own  victims  in  this  barren  wilderness.  If  poor  human 
ity  be  so  helpless  and  crippled,  what  matter  whether  it  hobble 
to  heaven  on  crutches  supplied  to  its  infirmity  by  an  anointed 
prelate  or  a  self-elected  saint?  Is  it  not  strange,  Sir  Knight, 
that  none  of  your  learned  and  your  bold  reformers  have  possessed 
wit  enough  to  solve  the  mighty  riddle  of  their  age  ?  Verily,  it 
seemeth  to  me,  that  this  eternal  warfare  of  religion,  which  hath 
so  long  brooded  with  its  gloomy  wings  over  the  whole  of  Chris 
tendom,  that  this  fierce  and  oppressive  sphinx,  which  hath  so 
long  appalled  the  souls  of  men  with  its  fearful  presence,  doth 
but  propound  a  riddle,  by  whose  solution  it  would  be  annihi 
lated." 

"  And  have  you  discovered,"  replied  the  knight,  "  in  the 
course  of  your  lonely  contemplation,  the  mystery  of  the 
sphinx? " 

"  I  have  read  the  riddle,"  answered  the  solitary,  "  and  the 
answer  is  Toleration.  This  mighty  reformation,  of  which  we 
hear  so  much  in  many  lands,  and  which  hath  hitherto  proved  in 
England  but  a  mockery,  is  naught,  so  long  as  one  fetter  remains 
upon  liberty  of  conscience.  What  matter  that  the  scarlet  mantle 
of  Babylon  should  be  rent  into  tatters  to  show  the  corruption 
which  those  gorgeous  robes  conceal  ?  What  matter  that  priests 
should  be  proved  to  be  mumming  mountebanks  arid  mercenary 
quacks,  so  long  as  still  some  other  fantastic  delusion  is  to  suc 
ceed,  so  long  as  the  whole  contest  is  but  a  petty  struggle  between 
rival  impostors  ?  'Tis  by  pondering  on  matters  such  as  these, 
that  I  have  a  little  estranged  myself  from  my  kind,  perhaps,  for 
I  feel  something  within  my  bosom  which  rebels  at  tyranny  in 
whatever  form  it  may  disguise  itself.  I  have  built  my  solitary 


200  MERRY-MOUNT. 


altar  here  upon  this  fair  mountain-top,  where  I  can  commune, 
eye  to  eye,  with  the  Creator  of  the  universe.  Truly  he  reveals 
himself  to  me,  not  through  the  awful  thunderings  amid  which 
he  rppeared  to  the  fierce  prophet  upon  Sinai's  mount,  but 
rather  seemeth  he  to  speak  to  my  heart  with  the  gentle  whisper 
ing  of  a  loving  father.  Sometimes  it  seemeth  to  me  here,  in  this 
fresh  and  unpolluted  solitude,  as  if  the  vanished  days  of  the  old 
and  sinless  world,  when  the  Lord  walked  in  the  garden  with  the 
patriarchs,  might  be  renewed,  and  that  his  loving  counsels  might 
be  intelligible  to  every  human  ear." 

As  the  solitary  paused,  Sir  Christopher,  who,  as  may  easily  be 
imagined,  had  taken  but  small  interest  in  the  discursive  and 
moralizing  soliloquy  of  the  hermit,  but  who  knew  by  experience 
of  how  little  advantage  it  was  to  attempt  to  arrest  the  course  of 
his  vagaries,  replied  :  — 

'*  Most  virtuous  hermit,  your  words  are  indeed  the  words  of 
wisdom,  and  I  have  a  profound  satisfaction  in  finding  how  much 
we  sympathize  in  our  views  of  human  nature.  But  unhappily, 
O  most  contemplative  of  mortals,  I  have  not  been  endowed 
with  that  generalizing  and  philosophical  spirit,  which  enables 
you  to  draw  such  sublime  results  from  your  meditations.  This 
poor  machine  of  mine,  look  you,  hath  been  constructed  for 
action,  and  I  feel  it  already  corroding  in  its  present  quiet.  Fur 
thermore,  if,  as  you  say,  the  human  race  be  so  fond  of  persecu 
tion  and  tyranny,  why  what  proves  it  more  than  that  they  were 
born  to  be  persecuted  and  tyrannized,  and  that  the  only  method 
to  save  them  from  each  other  is  to  govern  them  altogether  ?  If 
men  love  ceremonies,  pageants,  and  formulas  so  dearly,  what 
proves  it  after  all,  but  that  man  is  not  a  metaphysical  abstraction, 
but  an  unlucky  biped,  who  reasons  only  through  his  senses,  and 
who  must  be  governed  through  his  senses.  And  now,  taking 
leave  of  metaphysics,  I  would  either  bid  you  farewell  upon  your 
mountain-top,  or  accompany  your  footsteps  to  the  vale  beneath." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  20 1 


Blaxton,  as  may  be  supposed,  had  hardly  profited  much  by 
the  disquisition  which  the  knight  had  given  him  in  exchange  for 
his  own,  but,  observing  by  his  guest's  motions,  that  he  was  about 
descending  the  hill,  he  mechanically  arose  from  his  seat,  and 
accompanied  him  along  the  south-western  declivity,  towards  the 
western  cove. 

"The  door  of  my  poor  hermitage  is  ever  open,"  said  the 
solitary,  as  they  reached  the  vicinity  of  his  abode,  "  and  I 
could  be  well  pleased,  Sir  Knight,  to  offer  you  its  poor  hospi 
tality." 

"  I  am  bounden  to  you,  Master  Hermit,"  answered  Sir  Chris 
topher,  "  but  I  must  even  make  the  most  of  the  gentle  breeze 
which  I  see  yonder  is  just  curling  the  surface  of  the  water.  I 
have  a  considerable  voyage  before  me  to  night,  and  I  sought  you 
upon  my  way,  trusting  to  communicate  to  you  one  or  two  im 
portant  matters.  I  pray  you  to  honor  me  with  your  attention  a 
few  brief  moments." 

"Willingly,  willingly,"  answered  the  hermit,  who  had  not 
heard  a  word  of  his  companion's  remarks,  "  and  I  am  truly 
pleased  to  find  you  as  prone  as  myself  to  philosophical  specu 
lation.  A  petty  world,  Sir  Christopher,  a  petty  world  and  a 
petty  people.  A  stale  cheese  at  best,  be  its  maggots  ever  so 
busy.  The  night  is  like  enchantment,  the  wilderness  under  this 
young  summer  moon  shines  like  a  silver  garden.  I  must  saddle 
the  archbishop,  by  your  leave,  and  even  take  a  canter." 

With  this  the  whimsical  hermit  very  gravely  walked  off 
towards  his  homestead,  leaving  the  knight  standing  near  the 
beach,  quite  alone  and  very  much  disconcerted. 

"  Was  ever  such  a  brain-sick,  moping,  moon-struck  owl  !  " 
said  Gardiner  to  himself.  "  The  creature  has  even  flown  away 
from  me,  after  all,  in  the  very  breath  with  which  he  assured  me 
of  his  undivided  attention.  However,  the  evening  is  yet 
young,  I  will  at  least  await  for  a  little  while  his  re-appear 
ance." 


202  MERRY-MOUNT. 


So  saying,  Sir  Christopher  threw  himself  upon  the  turf  under 
a  spreading  tree,  and  solaced  himself  for  a  few  moments  by 
contemplating  with  extreme  attention  the  play  of  the  gentle 
moonlight  upon  the  waters.  As  the  knight,  however,  was  not 
blessed  with  the  habit  of  imperturbable  and  reposing  rumina 
tion  which  marked  the  character  of  his  late  companion,  and 
as  he  had  not  sought  the  promontory  of  Shawmut  that  night  to 
gaze  at  the  moon,  he  naturally,  after  a  little  time,  became  very 
impatient  again. 

Just,  however,  as  he  was  upon  the  point  of  taking  his  depar 
ture,  he  heard  a  hurried  trampling  upon  the  north-western 
extremity  of  the  beach.  He  turned  and  saw  the  hermit, 
mounted  upon  a  very  handsome  mouse-colored  bull,  which  he 
had  brought  with  him  from  England,  and  tamed  for  his  own 
riding,*  careering  in  a  rapid  gallop,  along  the  sandy  margin  of 
the  cove.  His  loose  robes  and  long  grey  hair  were  streaming 
wildly  in  the  summer  wind,  and  as  he  flitted  through  the  moon 
lit  scene,  he  looked  more  like  a  fantastic  creature  of  the  imagi 
nation  than  an  actual  inhabitant  of  earth. 

Gardiner  had  seen  many  things  and  many  people  in  his  day. 
^  He  had,  moreover,  become  very  familiar  with  the  eccentric 
and  flighty  character  of  the  recluse ;  but  he  fairly  rubbed  his 
eyes,  as  this  wild  creature  flitted  rapidly  to  and  fro  upon  the 
yellow  sands,  passing  and  repassing  before  his  eyes  with  ex 
traordinary  velocity,  the  bull  lashing  his  sides  with  his  tail,  and 
evidently  enjoying  the  sport  as  much  as  his  master,  to  whose 
every  impulse  he  seemed  astonishingly  obedient.  It  really 
seemed  to  the  knight  that  he  must  either  be  the  victim  of  some 
optical  delusion,  or  that  the  singular  metamorphosis  of  the  gen 
tle,  dreaming  hermit,  into  this  mad  Minotaur,  rushing  up  and 
down  the  beach  in  the  moonlight,  argued  the  possession  of  some 

*  Historical  fact. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  203 


preternatural  power  on  the  part  of  his  companion.  He  looked 
calmly  on,  however,  and  awaited  with  patience  the  termination 
of  the  hermit's  gallop,  as  he  had  one  or  two  matters  which  he 
wished  to  confide  to  him,  before  he  took  his  departure.  After 
rider  and  animal  seemed  temporarily  exhausted  by  their  race, 
they  suddenly  halted,  close  to  the  knight,  who  still  lay  stretched 
beneath  a  tree  which  grew  very  near  the  beach. 

"  We  were  talking  of  the  Reformation,"  said  the  recluse, 
speaking  in  the  same  calm  and  gentle  voice  which  was  habitual 
with  him;  "  but  I  need  not  remind  you  that  we  have  ever  been 
in  England  even  far  behind  the  Continent  of  Europe.  The 
Reformation,  the  world  over,  has  been  unsuccessful,  because, 
when  men  are  once  up  to  the  knees  in  blood,  their  virtue  is  apt 
to  be  soaked  out  of  them;  but  after  all,  something  was  accom 
plished —  something  more  was  attempted.  Indeed,  Luther  and 
Calvin  were  two  trumpets,  whose  peals  even  now  reecho  to  the 
world's  end,  —  two  rams'-horns,  whose  spirit-stirring  blasts  were 
potent  enow  to  batter  down  the  outworks  of  the  popish  Jeri 
cho  ;  but  they  are  cracked  and  broken  now,  and  fit  only  for 
children's  playthings.  I  tell  you  it  now  needs  an  archangel's 
trump  not  to  awaken  men  from  their  lethargy,  for  they  are  awake, 
but  to  startle  them  from  their  wilful  and  hopeless  madness. 

"For  my  own  part,"  said  Gardiner  in  reply,  without  manifest 
ing  any  astonishment  at  the  hermit's  proceedings,  "  I  care  not 
whether  the  pontifex  maximus  be  Pope  Harry,  who  burns  a 
schoolmaster  for  beating  him  in  an  argument  about  transubstan- 
tiation,  and  gives  a  convent's  revenue  to  a  woman  who  makes  a 
pudding  to  please  him  —  Pope  Elizabeth,  the  holy  virgin,  who, 
unlike  her  father,  does  not  marry,  and  therefore  rarely  murders 
her  paramours  —  Pope  Jamie,  who  finds  it  so  much  pleasanter  to 
be  pope  than  ruling  presbyter,  or  Pope  Charlie,  who  will  not  be 
comfortable,  till  he  has  unpoped  himself  and  feels  upon  his  neck 
again  the  foot  of  his  real  and  Roman  holiness.  I  care  not  one 


204  MERRY-MOUNT. 


jot  indeed,  whether  I  have  Harry  or  Charlie,  Julius  or  Gregory, 
Tudors,  Stewarts,  or  Borgias,  to  direct  my  worship,  and  to 
smooth  my  path  to  heaven.  I  have  other " 

"  Excuse  me,  Sir  Knight,"  interrupted  the  hermit,  "  but  I 
even  paused  to  give  a  little  breathing  time  to  Bishop  Laud,  here," 
continued  he,  patting  the  neck  of  the  animal  which  he  bestrode, 
and  to  whom  he  had  given  the  name  of  the  arch-enemy  of  the 
Puritans.  "  Poor  fellow,  he  puffs  enow  to  shame  his  godfather. 
There  is  a  prelate,  Sir  Christopher,  will  mount  the  devil's 
back  and  ride  him  off  his  legs.  Satan  himself  will  be  spavined 
before  his  career  is  over.  Then  go  thy  ways,  bishop,"  he  con 
cluded,  suddenly  dismounting,  and  suffering  the  animal  to  wan 
der  and  graze  at  will  through  the  park;  "I  will  have  more 
mercy  upon  thee  than  thou  wouldst  have  upon  the  Puritans,  or 
the  devil  himself.  And  now,  Sir  Knight,  I  think  you  had  some 
what  to  impart  to  me." 

"  Simply  this,"  said  Gardiner,  whose  accurate  perceptional- 
ways  informed  him  exactly  when  a  word  of  two  would  reach  his 
companion's  mind,  and  who  never  showed,  by  his  manner,  that 
he  found  any  deviation  from  the  strictest  common-place  in  the 
hermit's  erratic  demeanor  —  "  simply  this,  and  I  crave  your  par 
don  for  not  having  communicated  the  matter  before.  Thomas 
Morton  hath  incurred  the  enmity  of  the  Plymouth  brethren  by 
many  mad  pranks  by  him  committed,  more  especially  by  an  up 
roarious  frolic  for  eight  a^id  forty  hours'  long  at  May-tide.  Thomas 
Morton  will  be  attacked  by  an  army  of  saints.  He  will  be 
expelled  from  his  residence,  and  sent  prisoner  to  England.  All 
this  will  happen  within  thirty  days,  and  yet  the  reckless  rioter 
will  not  believe  it.  These  papers,  however,  which  I  have  with 
drawn  from  his  keeping,  I  wish  to  intrust  to  your  hands." 
With  this  the  knight  took  a  sealed  packet  from  his  bosom 
and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the  hermit,  who  was  listening 
with  attention.  "  Mixed  with  them  are  several  important  papers 


MERRY-MOUNT.  205 


of  my  own,  which  I  do  not  consider  so  safe  in  my  own  tempo 
rary  domicile  as  they  will  be  with  you,  the  more  so,  as  this  unto 
ward  event  which  is  so  soon  to  take  place,  hath  induced  me  to 
make  some  alteration  in  my  plans,  and  will,  perhaps,  cause  my 
absence  from  these  places  for  a  season.  The  papers  relate,  most 
ly,  to  the  affairs  of  Sir  Ferdinando.  You  will,  however,  perceive 
that  the  departure  of  Morton,  which  I  foresee  and  have  accord 
ingly  provided  against,  although  he  is  resolute  in  his  own  disbe 
lief  thereof,  may  be  yet  turned  to  good.  I  do  not  regret  the 
opportunity  of  being  able  to  communicate  through  a  trusty 
ambassador,  with  Sir  Ferdinando,  except  of  the  necessary  pro 
crastination  which  it  it  causes." 

"  Sir  Knight,"  answered  the  hermit,  "  I  take  these  papers, 
which  you  no  doubt  think  of  extreme  importance,  and  which  to 
me  seem  as  valuable  as  the  last  year's  leaves.  I  shall  keep  them 
carefully,  and  in  the  same  receptacle  you  wot  of.  I  know 
nothing,  or  but  little,  of  Sir  Ferdinando,  I  know  nothing  of  your 
purposes  nor  projects.  I  care  as  little  for  your  schemes  as  for 
the  schemes  of  the  saints.  I  have  consented,  when  almost  the 
only  dweller  in  the  Massachusetts,  to  be  appointed  by  the  knight 
to  put  John  Oldham  into  the  possession  of  his  lease;  but  truly 
if  he  has  no  reliance  on  any  stronger  arm  than  mine,  he  is 
likely  to  remain  out  of  possession  for  many  a  long  year.  Truly 
there  is  a  certain  hard-handed  Indian  fighter  at  the  opposite 
promontory,  who  I  think  would  be  more  serviceable  to  Master 
Oldham  than  myself.  However,  the  knight  is  doubtless  the  best 
judge  of  his  own  matters,  and  therefore  even  let  my  name  stand. 
Have  you  other  commands  for  me?" 

"  Thanks,  gentle  Master  Blaxton,"  answered  the  knight, 
"  but  I  have  deposited  my  papers  with  you,  to  do  which  was  the 
principal  purport  of  my  visit.  I  warn  you,  however,  that  you 
will  probably  ere  long  receive  a  summons  to  join  in  the  pious 
crusade  against  the  anti-Christ  of  Merry-Mount.  You  will  be 

VOL.  i.  18 


206  MERRY-MOUNT. 


called  to  trail  a  pike  in  the  holy  warfare,  or  your  purse  will  bleed 
for  it." 

With  this  the  knight  courteously  bade  the  hermit  farewell, 
and,  stepping  briskly  towards  the  beach,  was  soon  lost  from 
view  ;  while  Blaxton,  hardly  heeding  his  departure,  remained, 
contemplatively  gazing  on  the  sylvan  scene  before  him,  now  softly 
lighted  by  the  young  summer's  moon. 

It  will  be  perceived  how  very  little  sympathy,  either  of  opinion 
or  character,  existed  between  the  knight  and  the  hermit,  and 
how  slight  and  accidental  was  the  band  which  united  them. 
Blaxton's  mind  was  so  honestly  and  unaffectedly  removed  above, 
or  at  least  without,  the  ordinary  sphere  of  human  cares  and 
wishes,  and  his  character,  like  his  life,  had  through  long  seclu 
sion  and  a  systematic  indulgence  of  its  eccentric  humors,  become 
so  lonely,  that  he  regarded  with  comparative  indifference  the 
various  indications  of  the  projected  colonization  of  the  New 
England  wilderness.  The  high  priest  of  nature,  seated  in 
simple  but  sublime  loneliness  by  the  side  of  his  forest  fountain, 
passing  his  gently  monotonous  days  in  exalted  communion  with 
his  Creator,  was  likely  to  look  forward  rather  with  a  sensation  of 
impatience  than  of  gratification,  to  the  arrival  of  men  who,  how 
ever  earnest  and  enthusiastic,  belonged,  as  the  reader  may  have 
already  gathered  from  his  conversation,  to  a  sect  with  whom  he 
felt  little  sympathy.  He,  however,  felt  that  in  the  boundless  wil 
derness  there  was  room  enough  for  nations,  and  he  therefore 
could  not  conceive  that  a  few  scattered  pioneers  could  in  any 
way  incommode  each  other.  For  himself,  he  did  not  dream  that 
there  was  a  possibility  of  his  own  solitude  being  disturbed,  but 
believed  that  his  rights  of  property  in  a  wilderness  spot  which 
possessed  no  value  but  that  which  was  derived  from  his  hands, 
would  undoubtedly  be  held  sacred. 

As  for  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner,  his  position  was  growing  in 
tolerably  irksome.  After  having  been  kept  in  the  dark  for  a 


MERRY-MOUNT.  207 

long  time  as  to  the  state  of  the  projects  and  counter-projects  for 
colonizing  New  England,  he  had  at  length,  as  we  have  seen,  ob 
tained  information  from  his  coadjutors  at  home.  The  informa 
tion  had,  however,  proved  in  the  highest  degree  unsatisfactory. 
The  dilatoriness  and  lukewarmness  of  his  friends  was  becoming 
intolerable.  The  fiery  man  of  action  saw  himself  condemned  to 
another  and  a  protracted  season  of  languor  and  inactivity.  In 
stead  of  his  recruits  in  men,  money  and  munitions,  and  an 
approval  of  his  purpose  to  seize  upon  and  occupy  at  once  all  the 
prominent  posts  in  the  country,  he  received  counsels  of  caution, 
procrastination,  dissimulation.  lie  more  than  suspected  that 
this  growing  timidity  and  hesitation  at  home  was  indicative  of 
an  inclination  to  abandon  altogether  an  enterprise  which  per 
haps  was  beginning  to  lose  its  charms.  Still,  however,  with  the 
tenacity  of  purpose  which  belonged  to  his  constitution,  he  kept 
fast  hold  upon  his  own  projects,  determined  not  to  abandon  them 
so  long  as  one  powerful  confederate  remained  to  him,  and  as 
long  as  a  solitary  hope  remained  of  a  successful  issue. 

lie  was  now  certain  that  Sir  Ferdinando's  project  was  for  the 
present  foiled,  or  at  least  postponed.  He  had  received  direct 
information  that  a  company  of  Puritans  had  received  a  grant  of 
land  from  the  company  in  England,  a  part  of  it  including  a  por 
tion  of  the  very  territory  once  conveyed  to  the  Gorges  family, 
and  that  a  body  of  emigrants,  under  highly  respectable  and  influ 
ential  leaders,  were  immediately  to  set  sail  for  New  England. 
He  was,  however,  assured  that  the  effort  to  obtain  the  grant  of  a 
charter  from  the  crown  to  this  company,  without  which  the 
enterprise  must  necessarily  fail,  would  be  unsuccessful.  The 
attention  of  government  was  directed  to  the  seditious,  democratic 
and  dangerous  character  of  the  sect  who  were  thus,  as  was  insin 
uated,  contemplating  the  establishment  of  an  independent  repub 
lic  upon  these  distant  territories;  and  strong  opposition  was 
made,  both  directly  and  indirectly,  by  powerful  persons,  to  pre- 


208  MERRY-MOUNT. 


vent  the  accomplishment  of  their  designs.  Sir  Christopher  was 
particularly  enjoined  to  observe  accurately  and  unceasingly  the 
conduct,  conversation  and  character  of  the  new  comers  and  to 
keep  his  associates  in  England  constantly  and  minutely  informed 
as  to  all  their  proceedings,  with  a  view  to  sustain  the  charges  of 
their  opponents,  that  the  new  settlers  were  not  only  schismatics 
but  rebels,  and  that  they  were  thoroughly  and  bitterly  hostile,  as 
well  to  the  monarch's  authority  in  the  nation,  as  to  his  suprem 
acy  in  the  church.  Had  there  not  been  some  peculiar  and 
private  objects  to  be  attained  in  the  wilderness,  and  had  there 
not  been  at  the  moment  some  peculiarly  cogent  objections  to  his 
visiting  England,  it  is  highly  probable  that  the  knight  would 
have  abandoned  the  country  upon  the  instant,  with  a  view  of 
expostulating  emphatically  and  personally  with  his  hesitating  con 
federates,  and  of  infusing  something  of  his  own  vigor  and  audacity 
into  their  minds.  As  it  was,  he  saw  himself  condemned  to  play 
the  spy  for  a  still  longer  period.  Dissimulation  and  intrigue 
were  not  distasteful  to  him ;  on  the  contrary,  they  formed  the 
very  sphere  in  which  his  peculiar  genius  most  delighted  to  exer 
cise  itself;  but  intrigue  in  the  forests,  dissimulation  in  a  desert, 
had  but  little  charms  for  so  accomplished  a  schemer.  He  had, 
however,  under  the  circumstances,  nothing  for  it  but  to  bide  his 
time,  and  though  he  chafed  at  the  inactivity  which  was  imrjosed 
upon  him,  he  submitted  for  the  present  with  as  good  a  grace 
as  could  have  been  expected. 

The  vagaries  of  Thomas  Morton,  morever,  had  given  him  a 
good  deal  of  uneasiness.  He  had  constantly  warned  him  how 
inexpedient  it  was  to  excite  the  jealousy  of  the  other  religious 
settlers,  already  established  in  New  England,  and  how  necessary 
it  was  to  the  final  success  of  their  schemes  that  the  character  of 
himself  and  his  associates  should,  for  the  present  at  least,  appear 
to  be  discreet  and  orderly.  But  reasoning  was  apt  to  be  thrown 
away  upon  the  reckless  potentate  of  Merry-Mount,  and  Gardiner 


MERRY-MOUNT.  099 


already  began  to  fear  whether  he  was  not.  likely  to  derive  more 
injury  than  benefit  from  his  alliance.  Still  as  the  good-humored 
roysterer  possessed  many  qualities  that  were  highly  valuable  to 
him,  and  as  he  had  been  privy,  in  a  considerable  measure,  to  his 
various  schemes,  it  was  the  knight's  desire  to  manage  him  and 
preserve  his  alliance.  Unfortunately  the  late  May-day  festivities 
at  Merry-Mount  had  excited  the  wrath  and  indignation  of  the  Pu 
ritans  of  New  Plymouth,  among  whom  Gardiner  had  carefully  es 
tablished  himself  during  the  whole  period  of  Morton's  riot.  This 
he  had  done,  both  to  enable  the  settlers  to  contrast  the  solemnity 
of  his  own  character  with  the  licentiousness  of  the  master  of  mis 
rule,  and  to  enable  him  to  observe  at  once  the  effects  produced 
upon  their  minds  by  the  whole  proceedings. 

For  a  moment  we  return  to   the  solitary  of  Shawmut.     The\ 
day  had  been  one  of  fierce  and  unclouded  sunshine,  the  evening  \ 
had  been  cool  and  serene,  but  the  night  which  was  now  approach- 

inor  seemed  to  be  of  another   character.     The  moon  had   sunk 

0 

in  the  west,  overwhelmed  at  her  departure  by  the  hosts  of  dark 
and  shadowy  clouds,  which  seemed  to  have  gathered  from  every 
quarter  to  hurl  her  from  her  throne.  The  north  wind  blew  its 
trumpet-blast  through  the  shivering  woods.  The  scud  flew 
thick  and  fast  across  the  upper  sky.  There  was  a  wild  hurt 
ling  and  trampling  in  the  air,  as  if  from  a  conflict  of  invisible, 
and  aerial  hosts.  Suddenly  a  flaming  meteor,  larger  and  more  \ 
lustrous  than  a  planet,  shot  completely  across  the  sky,  springing 
up  from  the  north,  culminating  almost  to  the  zenith,  and  disap 
pearing  in  the  sea  with  a  crash  like  thunder.  Then  the  thickly 
congregated  mass  of  clouds  suddenly  rolled  away,  like  a  scroll 
that  shrivels  in  the  flame,  and  the  hermit  saw  in  the  western  sky, 
hanging  just  above  the  horizon,  the  gigantic  image  of  a  flaming 
sword.  As  he  was  gazing  with  a  sensation  of  awe  at  this 
strange  phenomenon,  which  displayed  itself  just  after  his  eyes  had 
been  dazzled  and  his  ears  stunned  by  the  sudden  appearance  and 
18* 


210  MERRY-MOUNT. 


violent  explosion  of  the  meteor,  it  vanished,  while  a  little  above 
the  quarter  where  it  had  disappeared  he  distinctly  saw  the  images 
of  four  ships,  slowly  ploughing  their  way  across  the  blue  and  un 
clouded  expanse  of  ether,  with  snowy  sail  and  flying  pennon, 
each,  after  a  few  moments,  successively  disappearing  in  a  myste 
rious  and  ghost-like  manner,  below  the  western  horizon.  The 
solitary  stood  gazing  at  this  strange  succession  of  weird  and  un 
wonted  appearances  with  a  singular  trouble  in  his  mind.  He  stood 
watching  long  after  the  last  aerial  ship  had  sunk  below  the  hori 
zon,  anxiously  awaiting  the  appearance  of  some  new  and  still 
more  bewildering  phenomenon. 

No  farther  sign  appeared  however.  The  clouds  gathered  again 
over  the  face  of  heaven,  the  night  grew  gloomy  and  starless, 
the  wind,  now  veering  towards  the  east  and  freshening  to  a  gale, 
spread  its  wings,  damp  and  heavy  with  ocean  mist,  across  the 
murky  landscape.  The  hermit,  who  felt  chilled  and  depressed 
by  the  sudden  atmospheric  change,  as  well  as  perplexed  by  the 
wild  and  boding  appearances  which  he  had  witnessed  in  the  sky, 
looked  fearfully  around,  lest  perhaps  the  former  preternatural  but 
beautiful  face,  which  had  not  long  before  appeared  to  him,  might 
even  now  be  gazing  through  the  dense  foliage  of  the  oak  tree 
near  which  he  was  standing.  He  almost  dreaded,  as  he  cast  his 
glances  slowly  around  him,  to  find  those  dark  and  mournful  eyes 
looking  upon  him  with  the  same  warning  and  prophetic  expression 
which  they  lately  wore.  But  the  strange  apparition  did  not  re 
turn  to  him  that  night,  although  his  imagination,  strongly  excit 
ed  by  the  unusual  phenomena  of  nature  which  had  just  displayed 
themselves  to  him,  might  easily,  it  would  seem,  have  bodied  forth, 
out  of  the  melancholy  and  dreamy  fancies  which  were  thronging 
about  his  mind,  some  visible  shape  of  mystery  and  terror,  such  as 
had  once  before  perplexed  and  haunted  him. 

With  slow  and  thoughtful  step  he  paced  along  the  verge  of 
the  cove,  and  then  entered  his  lowly  cottage. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  21 1 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    CAPTURE. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  revels  of  Merry-Mount  had  been  con 
cluded,  the  sovereign  of  that  territory  was  left  in  almost  solitary 
state  in  his  palace.  He  had  despatched  the  greater  number  of 
his  retainers  to  the  inland  portion  of  the  country,  this  being  the 
season  when  it  was  usual  with  them  to  meet  the  Indians,  make 
their  purchases  of  beaver,  and  arrange  their  future  contracts ; 
and  there  were  none  left  within  the  precincts  of  the  Mount,  save 
the  head  butler  and  the  Canary  Bird. 

Leaving  those  two  worthies  in  charge  of  the  palace,  Master 
Morton,  one  fine  summer's  morning,  passed  over  the  river  and 
took  his  way  towards  the  plantation  of  Wessaguscus,  or  rather  to 
what  remained  of  that  unsuccessful  establishment  at  that  place- 
A  few  straggling  settlers  still  lingered  in  the  vicinity,  living, 
however,  in  the  most  miserable  condition,  some  of  them  being 
actually  servants  to  the  Indians,  and  performing  menial  offices 
for  a  livelihood,  although  by  far  the  greater  portion  had  made  their 
escape  from  the  unpromising  colony;  some  to  Plymouth,  some 
to  Merry-Mount,  and  some,  who  could  command  sufficient 
means,  to  England. 

The  fate  of  the  plantation  at  Wessaguscus,  (the  earliest  settle 
ment  in  Massachusetts  Bay,)  was  a  striking  counterpart  to  that 
of  New  Plymouth,  and  in  fact  the  history  of  every  settlement 
that  was  made  in  the  territory  of  the  Massachusetts,  by  any  class 
of  adventurers,  except  those  with  whom  religion  was  the  ruling 
motive,  shows  that  some  higher  and  stronger  principle  of  action 


212  MERRY-MOUNT. 


than  the  love  of  gain,  was  necessary  to  maintain  a  colony  in  so 
wild  and  dreary  a  solitude. 

The  vernal  period  of  Massachusetts  history  bears  some  re 
semblance  to  the  spring-time  of  her  climate.  If  we  regard  the 
successive  efflorescence  of  civilization  along  the  edge  of  the 
bay,  the  pale  and  feeble  buds  reluctantly  expanding  their  petals 
one  by  one,  amid  a  stormy  and  cheerless  atmosphere,  many  of 
them  frozen  and  destroyed  before  unfolding,  and  the  healthiest 
but  faintly  quivering  upon  the  black  and  leafless  bough,  we  shall 
find  that  there  seems  but  one  single  source  of  vitality,  capable  of 
protecting  and  supporting  their  faint  and  slow  development. 

In  warmer  climes,  under  more  genial  influencs,  and  inspired 
by  golden  dreams  of  terrestrial  wealth  and  glory,  there  have 
been  colonies  whose  beginnings  were  more  brilliant,  picturesque, 
and  captivating  to  the  imagination,  but  they  have  not  unfolded 
to  empires.  The  broad-leaved  tree  of  the  tropics  derives  its 
rank  luxuriance  as  much  from  the  stimulating  and  poisonous 
influence  which  it  imbibes  from  the  atmosphere,  as  from  the 
fertility  of  the  soil  in  which  it  stands.  Magnificent  are  its 
foliage,  its  flowers,  its  towering  shaft,  its  umbrageous  top,  but  a 
blast  of  the  hurricane  lays  it  low.  The  stalwart  oak,  whose 
roots  descend  through  beds  of  sterile  gravel  and  through  clefts 
of  frost-riven  granite,  derives  its  nourishment  from  the  pure  and 
unsunned  veins  of  living  water,  and  from  a  thousand  subtle  and 
invisible  treasures  of  nature's  inmost  bosom.  The  tempests  of  a 
thousand  years  sweep  over  it  in  vain. 

Morton  had  passed  a  portion  of  the  summer's  day  loitering 
about  the  neighborhood,  hoping  to  fall  in  with  certain  petty 
chieftains,  of  the  neighboring  tribes,  with  whom  he  was  in  con 
stant  habits  of  intercourse,  and  with  whom  he  had  some  particu 
lar  arrangements  to  conclude.  He  had  been  disappointed, 
however,  and  was  upon  the  point  of  returning  to  his  own 
domains,  as  it  was  already  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  sud- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  213 


denly  heard  himself  called  by  name.  Turning  in  some  surprise 
at  the  sound,  he  saw  emerging  from  a  kind  of  cavern,  partly 
natural  and  partly  artificial,  which  opened  upon  the  side  of  a 
sloping  crng,  a  strange  and  almost  preternatural  figure.  The 
creature  seemed  covered  with  hair  from  head  to  foot,  but  how 
much  of  his  hirsute  covering  was  the  natural  growth  of  his  own 
hide,  and  how  much  had  been  borrowed  from  other  animals, 
could  not,  in  the  general  squalor  and  filth  which  covered  the 
whole,  be  accurately  discovered.  His  head  was  covered  with 
matted  iron-grey  elf  locks,  which  circled  and  twisted  in  every 
direction,  like  a  nest  of  rattlesnakes  ;  the  nails  of  his  hands  and 
feet  were  long  and  crooked,  like  vulture's  talons ;  he  had  a 
basket  on  his  arm,  and  held  a  long  pole  in  his  right  hand.  The 
expression  of  his  features,  as  far  as  could  be  discerned  through 
the  mass  of  hair  and  filth  with  which  they  were  obscured,  was 
something  less  human  than  that  of  an  intelligent  ourang-outang. 

"  Master  Morton,  Master  Morton,"  screeched  this  creature, 
suddenlv  darting  out  of  its  cave,  and  leaping  towards  the  Lord  of 
Merry-Mount. 

"How  now,  thou  filthy  Caliban  —  art  thou  not  starved  nor 
scalped  yet?"  answered  Morton,  who  seemed  to  have  seen  the 
creature  before  — "  What  wouldst  thou  with  me,  most  venerable 
carrion  ?  Propound,  explain,  but  prithee  stand  upon  the  other 
side  of  me,  for  the  wind,  look  ye,  sits  upon  this  quarter,  and 
there  be  certain  damp  and  earthy  exhalations,  contracted  doubt 
less  by  thy  subterranean  mode  of  life  —  pauca  verba,  pauca 
verba,  —  thou  understandest  me,  I  perceive." 

"Master  Morton,  Master  Morton,  thou  diddest  me  a  kindness 
once,"  said  this  human  woodchuck. 

"  Did  I  so,  indeed?"  answered  the  other  ;  "  then  prithee,  do 
me  another  in  return." 

"Truly  I  will,  your  worship.  What  shall  I  do  to  serve  you? 
Shall  I  dig  you  a  basket  of  clams  ?  Stay  but  here,  your  worship, 


214  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  I  will  be  back  before  you  can  whistle  for  me."  And  with 
this  the  creature  planted  his  pole  in  the  earth  and  began  leaping 
down  the  side  of  the  hill. 

"  Stop,  stop,"  cried  Morton,  "  I  have  no  occasion  for  clams 
at  this  present  juncture,  and  truly  the  favor  I  meant  to  ask  of 
you,  was  simply  that  thou  shouldst  forthwith  return  again  into 
the  womb  of  thy  mother  earth.  Burrow  back  again,  thou  most 
venerable  mole,  for  truly  thou  makest  the  daylight  hideous. 
Come  back  with  the  owls  and  the  bats,  and  the  toads,  and  the 
other  noisome  things  which  love  the  twilight — but  the  sunlight, 
believe  me,  was  never  made  for  thee.  But  stay,  I  did  but  jest," 
added  Morton,  as  the  creature,  hanging  its  head  and  weeping 
bitterly,  began  slowly  to  retreat  towards  his  cave  —  "  stay  here, 
then,  and  air  the  inmost  chambers  of  thy  mind,  by  opening  them 
to  the  breeze  and  sunlight  of  improving  society.  After  all,  'tis 
not  good  to  be  so  solitary.  Take  thy  clam  basket  and  follow 
me.  Thou  shalt  go  with  me  to  Merry-Mount,  and  shalt  dwell  in 
my  tent,  poor  miserable  devil  that  thou  art.  Come  along,  I 
say." 

"  I  say,  Master  Morton,  thou  diddest  me  a  kindness  once," 
said  the  Caliban,  turning  again  towards  his  companion,  and 
squatting  down  at  the  door  of  his  cave. 

"  So  thou  diddest  me  the  honor  to  observe  before,"  answered 
Morton,  "  and  truly  I  do  even  propose  to  do  thee  another.  I 
tell  thee  to  follow  me  to  my  palace,  and  forsake  thy  heathenish 
haunt  and  grovelling  habits.  '  Come  live  with  me,  and  be  my 
love,'  as  the  worthy  Kit  Marlowe  expresses  himself  to  a  more 
fascinating  object,  let  me  hope  than  thou  art " 

"  I  cannot  away  to  Merry-Mount,"  answered  the  other.  "  I 
would  go  willingly,  but  I  cannot  away." 

"And  why  can  you  not,  most  hirsute  of  human  creatures  ?  " 
answered  Morton.  "  Come  with  me,  I  say,  and  that  at  once,  for 
by  the  Lord  it  is  growing  dark  and  mirky,  and  the  air  looks  full 
of  smothered  thunder." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  215 


"  Yes,  yes,  Master  Morton,  thunder  enough,  lightning  enough," 
answered  the  monster ;  "  I  have  not  lived  under  ground  so 
long  for  nothing.  I  can  smell  the  brimstone  when  it  is  boil 
ing.  There  is  thunder  brewing  up  yonder,  and  plenty  of  it, 
arid  the  wind  will  blow  a  little  perhaps  to-night ;  any  body  knows 
that." 

"  By  Jupiter,"  said  Morton,  "  here  is  a  subterranean  philoso 
pher !  But  what  hath  all  this  to  do  with  my  invitation  to  thee. 
I  did  bid  thee  to  our  palace  at  Merry-Mount,  thunder  or  no 
thunder." 

"  I  told  thee  I  could  not  away,"   answered  the  other. 

"And  why  not,  pretty  one,"  replied  Morton. 

"  Truly,  because  I  have  sold  myself  to  the  great  god  Aba- 
moko,  and  he  hath  ordered  me  to  stay  here  to  serve  his  red 
children.  If  I  should  go  away  from  my  cave,  who  would  find 
ground-nuts  for  the  sachems,  who  would  dig  clams  for  them, 
who  find  quails'  eggs  for  the  squaws  ?  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I 
should  like  to  go  away.  The  cave  is  very  cold  in  winter,  and 
the  snow  hides  the  ground-nuts.  But  the  red  creatures  are  very 
kind.  They  give  me  my  cap  full  of  parched  corn  every  week 
when  I  work  for  them.  I  thank  thee  kindly,  Master  Morton, 
but  I  cannot  away  to  Merry-Mount.  I  have  sold  myself  to  the 
great  god  Abamoko." 

"  Now  here  is  an  ingenious  fellow,"  said  Morton  to  himself, 
who  found  that  the  poor  crack-brained  man  of  the  woods  was 
out  of  the  reach  of  his  arguments.  "Now  here  is  a  profound 
philosopher,  who  has  gone  farther  than  ever  Christian  went  be 
fore,  for  he  has  even  turned  his  back  upon  our  old  and  respec 
table  Sathanas,  and  sold  himself,  soul  and  body,  to  an  Indian's 
devil  —  and  a  devilish  hard  bargain  he  has  made  of  it  too.  A 
cap  full  of  parched  corn  hebdomadally  !  — proh  pudor  !  is  that 
the  rate  paid  for  humanity  by  this  pitiful  devil  ?  Commend  me 
to  honest  Mephistopheles  after  all,  and  the  devil  take  such  sneak- 


216  MERRY-MOUNT. 


ing  skin-flints  as  the  god  Abamoko.  But  I  say,  thou  subter 
ranean  philosopher,  what  favor  did  I  ever  do  thee,  for  which 
thou  expressest  so  much  gratitude,  albeit  somewhat  uncouthly?" 

"Thou  didst  once  rescue  me,"  answered  the  Caliban,  "  when 
three  red-skins  would  have  destroyed  and  scalped  me.  I  had 
pilfered  but  I  was  starving.  Thou  didst  save  my  life,  and 
moreover  thou  didst  give  me,  besides,  a  horn  of  rosa  solis." 

"  I  do  remember  me,"  exclaimed  Morton,  "  and  by  Jupiter 
Diespiter,  here  is  gratitude  enow  to  redeem  a  city.  Here  is  a 
poor  outcast,  burrowing  in  the  ground  and  feeding  on  pignuts, 
who  remembereth  with  gratitude  one  single  horn  of  liquor,  for 
as  to  the  preservation  of  thy  life,  seeing  what  use  thou  makest 
thereof,  that  can  hardly  be  reckoned  a  kindness.  By  heavens, 
such  virtue  shall  be  rewarded.  Look  upon  this,  sylvan  mon 
ster  ! "  And  with  this  Morton  held  up  a  hunting  flask,  of 
ample  dimension,  which  he  carried  suspended  at  his  side. 

An  unearthly  grin  spread  itself  over  the  physiognomy  of  the 
wild  man  of  the  woods,  as  he  leaped  nimbly  forward,  and  eagerly 
clutched  the  treasure  which  was  offered  to  him. 

"  Aha  !  "  said  he,  as  he  greedily  applied  it  to  his  lips,  "  aha? 
this  is  a  greater  spirit  than  Abamoko.  I  wish  I  served  your 
spirit,  Master  Morton,  but  Abamoko  is"  powerful,  and  his  red 
children  are  very  kind.  Alas,  I  cannot  go  with  thee  to  Merry- 
Mount  ! " 

"  Stay  where  thou  art  then,  in  God's  name,"  replied  the  other, 
"  since  thy  thraldom  is  so  irresistible ;  and  now  farewell,  for 
truly  I  like  not  over-well  the  threatening  aspect  of  yonder 
clouds,  and  I  have  a  trifling  march  before  me." 

"  Alas,  alas,  thou  art  going  indeed,"  said  the  wild  man,  "  and 
truly  I  fear  much  lest  mischance  should  befall  thee.  I  have 
smelt  the  thunder  all  day  long  as  I  lay  in  my  cave,  and  I  saw 
fearful  sights  in  the  air  last  night.  But  'tis  not  the  worst,  'tis 
not  the  worst !  There  is  a  more  fearful  mischance  threatening 


MERRY-MOUJNT. 


thee,  Master  Morton,  alas,  alas  !  to  thee  who  have  been  so  good 
to  me."  And  here  the  creature  began  to  weep  bitterly. 

"  Why,  thinkest  thou  I  am  afraid  of  the  thunder  and  rain, 
most  delicate  of  wood  spirits?  "  said  Morton,  laughing. 

4<Alas,  alas!"  blubbered  the  other,  "'tis  not  the  rain,  nor 
the  wind,  nor  the  thunder,  though  they  will  all  be  fearful.  'T  is 
the  dreadful  Captain  Standish,  the  mighty  man  of  Plymouth, 
that  I  - 

"  Captain  Standish  !  "  exclaimed  Morton,  "  what  of  the  heroic 
shrimp,  what  of  the  most  puissant  pigmy  ?  speak." 

"  Alas,  alas,"  replied  the  other,  "I  pray  thee  jest  not  at  that 
mighty  man  of  wrath." 

"  Diddest  thou  never  hear,"  continued  he,  in  a  low  and 
mysterious  tone,  "diddest  thou  never  hear  of  the  fearful  plague 
which  swept  through  this  wilderness,  now  many  years  ago,  I 
know  not  how  many,  neither  was  I  here  then.  Alas,  alas  !  I  was 
then  in  my  own  happy  home,  and  had  not  sold  myself  to  the 
terrible  Abamoko,"  continued  the  creature,  with  the  tears 
running  afresh  along  his  grimy  cheeks. 

"Did  I  never  hear  of  it,"  cried  Morton,  "  why  thou  most 
uninstructed  pagan,  did  I  not  see  it?  Was  not  I,  Thomas 
Morton,  Prince  of  Passanogessit,  travelling  through  these  rugged 
wildernesses  at  the  very  time  when  that  same  distemper  ceased? 
Did  I  not,  who  knew  that  the  Indians  were  ceremonious  and 
careful  in  the  offering  of  burial  rites  to  their  dead,  did  not  I, 
when  wandering  through  the  places  where  they  had  dwelt,  and 
whence  they  had  all  vanished,  see  them  all  lying  in  herps  like 
autumn  leaves,  old  and  young,  sachems,  warriors,  squaws,  and 
papooses,  all  rotting  together  unburied  in  the  wilderness,  with 
the  wolves,  and  the  kites,  and  the  carrion  crows  feasting  upon 
their  carcases?  Did  I  not  believe  that  I  had  got  to  Golgotha 
instead  of  to  the  Massachusetts,  and  what  then  wilt  thou  tell  me 

VOL.  i.  19 


218  MERRY-MOUNT. 


of  this  plague,  and  what  the  plague  hath  this  plague  to  do  with 
Captain  Shrimp?  " 

"  Knovvest  thou  not  then,  Master,  that  the  plague  still  exists  1 " 
continued  the  other  in  the  same  hoarse  and  boding  tone. 

"Quite  the  contrary,  my  rustic  friend,"  answered  Morton, 
"  I  know  that  it  hath  surceased  well  nigh  these  ten  years." 

"  The  plague  exists,  Master,"  said  the'other,  still  in  the  same 
hoarse  and  earnest  accents.  "  It  hath  gone  to  sleep,  but  it 
exists  still,  it  hath  folded  its  wings,  but  it  is  alive,  and  it  will 
soon  fly  over  the  land  again ;  so  beware  of  the  mighty  man  of 
Plymouth,  Master  ! " 

"  It  hath  gone  to  sleep,  hath  it  ? "  answered  Morton. 
"  Aye,  truly,  Master,   the  great  God  Abamoko  himself  hath 
told  me  so,  often   and  often,   as  he  visited  me  by  night  in  my 
cave." 

"  So  the  God  Abamoko  visits  thee  nocturnally,"  answered 
Morton.  "  Excuse  me,  but  his  highness  seemeth  somewhat 
addicted  to  low  company." 

"  Alas,  alas  !  "  answered  the  monster,  "  he  comes  by  night, 
and  fastens  the  fetters  upon  my  legs ;  they  are  red-hot  iron, 
and  they  burn  me  to  the  bone ;  he  screws  them  tight,  and  my 
flesh  smokes,  and  my  blood  boils,  and  my  brains  fry." 

"  What  detestable  and  unfeeling  cookery,"  answered  Morton; 
"  now  may  Satan  himself  consume  such  a  boiling,  frying, 
scorching  devil  as  Abamoko.  Why  in  the  name  of  Beelzebub 
don't  you  fly  away  in  the  day-time  ?  " 

"  Because  he  makes  me  swear  every  night  to  serve  him  and 
his  red  children  faithfully.  Because  he  hath  burned  and  branded 
me  for  his  own  ;  because  the  fetters  are  always  there  in  the  day 
time,  although  invisible  and  looser  than  in  the  darkness." 

"  And  where  in  the  foul  fiend's  name  broodeth  this  plague 
that  terrifies  you  thus?  "  replied  Morton.  "  Where  doth  it  roost? 
Mayhap  it  were  as  well  to  find  its  nest  at  once,  and  crack  all  its 
eggs  before  it  hath  time  to  hatch  them." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  219 


"Ah,"  continued  the  outcast,  in  the  same  solemn  tone,  "jest 
not,  I  pray  thee,  with  such  fearful  matters.  Knowest  thou  not 
then  in  very  truth,  that  the  hero  of  Plymouth  keepeth  the  plague 
in  a  barrel,  safely  stowed  in  the  cellarage  of  his  own  house, 
and  that  if  he  list,  he  can  let  it  loose  to  fly  over  the  whole 
country  ?  " 

"  Whew  !  "  exclaimed  Morton,  "  so  the  murder  is  out.  So 
Captain  Shrimp  is  the  devil's  head  butler,  is  he,  and  hath  the 
care  of  his  choicest  casks?  And  how,  I  pray  thee,  hast  thou 
made  this  notable  discovery  of  the  treasures  of  the  Plymouth 
cellar?" 

1<I  tell  thee,  Master,"  continued  the  other,  "that  the  red 
children  of  Abamoko  all  know  whence  came  the  fearful  pesti 
lence  many  years  ago,  and  they  know  'tis  the  Englishman's 
devil  and  the  scourge  of  red  men.  Abamoko  himself  hath  told 
them  where  it  is  confined,  and  who  keepeth  the  keys  of  its 
prison.  This  is  why  they  all  fear  the  Englishmen  so  much,  and 
the  hero  of  Plymouth  most  of  all." 

"  Truly  a  most  admirable  device,"  answered  Morton.  "  Ah, 
valiant  Miles,  ah,  truculent  Shrimp,  thou  hast,  indeed,  a  trick 
or  two  worth  knowing.  Bless  thy  witty  brains,  I  could  almost 
worship  thee.  And  thou  wert  in  London  but  lately,  and  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  plague,  too,  and  escapedst  unharmed.  'Twas 
the  very  vintage  season  for  thee,  no  doubt,  and  there  didst  thou 
fill  thy  hogshead  for  wilderness  consumption.  The  pestilence 
in  a  puncheon,  forsooth  !  No  wonder  these  deluded  savages  fear 
thee  as  the  roaring  lion  !  " 

"  Hush,  hush,"  exclaimed  his  companion,  who  seemed  quite 
shocked  at  the  irreverent  manner  in  which  his  astounding  piece 
of  intelligence  was  received  ;  "  hush,  hush,  nearest  thou  not 
yonder  distant  thunder?  I  tell  thee  it  i*  ill  jesting  upon  these 
awful  matters.  Ah!  —  what  a  peal  was  that!  Abamoko  is  full 
of  wrath  ;  "  and  with  these  words  the  lunatic  coiled  himself  into 


220  MERRY-MOUNT. 


a  heap  upon  the  ground,  moaning  dismally,  while  his  teeth 
chattered  with  fear. 

In  effect,  the  weather  had  began  to  assume  a  somewhat  threat 
ening  aspect.  The  day,  which  had  been  one  of  intense  heat, 
was  already  drawing  to  its  close,  but  there  was  no  freshness,  no 
evening  coolness  in  the  atmosphere.  The  sun  had  sunk  beneath 
a  long,  dense  mass  of  leaden  clouds  which  lay  motionless  along 
the  horizon,  but  the  whole  upper  surface  of  the  heavens  still 
glowed  like  burnished  brass.  Not  the  faintest  breath  of  wind 
was  perceptible,  and  the  gigantic  oaks  and  chestnuts,  which 
grew  around  the  spot,  stood  with  their  massive  foliage  darkly 
painted  upon  the  brazen  sky,  the  outline  of  almost  every  leaf  so 
sharply  defined,  and  every  branch  so  fixed  and  motionless,  that 
the  very  forest  seemed  enchanted.  The  silence  was  oppressive, 
not  a  twig  rustled,  not  a  bird  sent  forth  a  solitary  note,  not  an 
insect  murmured.  Nature  seemed  so  spell-bound  and  breathless, 
that  it  was  a  relief  to  Morton's  ear,  when  the  distant  and  mut 
tered  thunder,  which  was  hardly  audible,  and  which,  however, 
seemed  so  sensibly  to  affect  his  companion,  at  last  interrupted 
the  boding  silence. 

There  were  certainly  some  symptoms  of  an  approaching 
storm,  although  it  seemed  probable  that  it  would  be  long  before 
it  broke  forth.  Although  it  was  past  sunset,  and  although  the 
western  edge  of  the  horizon  was  dark  and  gloomy,  yet  there 
seemed  a  singular  and  inexplicable  radiance  in  the  sky.  Long 
bars  of  brilliant  light  seemed  to  be  projected  upwards  from  some 
source  far  away  from  the  quarter  where  the  sun  had  sunk ;  and 
as  evening  advanced,  instead  of  the  shadowy  and  refreshing 
twilight,  the  brightness  of  the  sky  seemed  with  every  instant  to 
increase.  While  the  portion  of  the  west,  which  would  naturally 
have  been  tinged  with  the  last  glowing  colors  of  the  departed 
day,  retained  the  same  dull  and  sombre  hue,  there  was  spread 
over  the  rest  of  the  sky  a  thin  rack  of  flame-colored  vapor, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  221 


which  seemed  to  radiate  an  intense  degree  of  heat  and  light. 
Wild  and  ragged  clouds  of  a  dull  green  hue,  were  driving  with 
fearful  velocity  across  this  blazing  surface,  indicating  that  while 
the  deceitful  and  brooding  calm  still  lingered  below,  there  was 
already  a  fierce  commotion  in  the  upper  atmosphere. 

Morton  stood  looking  at  these  various  and  portentous  appear 
ances,  with  the  eye  of  a  man  whom  long  experience  in  the 
wilderness  had  taught  to  read  the  book  of  nature  with  great 
accuracy. 

"  There  is  no  mistaking  such  ugly  signs  as  these,"  said  he, 
rather  to  himself  than  to  his  companion.  "  It  needs  no  misbe 
gotten  gnome,  coming  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  to  tell  me 
that  there  will  be  a  devilish  pother  of  the  elements  before  I  can 
get  back  to  Merry-Mount.  Now,  although  tlie  weather  be  June, 
and  the  distance  home  but  ten  miles,  yet  I  would  rather  empty  a 
tankard  in  the  poorest  hedge  ale-house  between  London  and 
Staines,  than  run  all  night  through  these  slippery  thickets,  with 
nothing  to  light  me  on  my  path  but  the  lightning,  which  is  a 
mighty  zig-zag  and  uncomfortable  kind  of  link  bearer." 

"I  tell  thee,  Master,"  croaked  out  the  lunatic,  as  he  lay 
coiled  and  shuddering  in  a  heap,  "  profane  not  thus  the  name  of 
the  mighty  and  fearful  hero  of  Plymouth.  Deride  not,  neither, 
the  terrible  Abamoko.  He  rushes  even  now  over  our  heads, 
astride  the  thunder." 

"Faith,  then,"  answered  Morton,  "I  wish  he  would  even 
take  me  up  on  his  pillion  behind  him.  As  for  the  heroic  Captain 
Standish,  whose  name,  it  seems,  is  not  to  be  profaned,  I  beg  thee, 
in  case  that  he,  as  well  as  Abamoko,  should  p^y  a  visit  to  thine 
humble  abode,  to  present  to  him  my  warmest  congratulations 
and  regards.  Tell  Captain  Standish,  moreover,  that  should 
his  leisure  allow,  it  would  gratify  me  deeply  to  receive  him 
at  my  poor  palace  at  Merry-Mount,  the  rather  that  I  have 


222  MERRY-MOUNT. 


heard  some  casual  intimations  of  an  intended  visit  on  his  part, 

and " 

"  Your  presence  here  will  save  Captain  Standish  that  trouble," 
suddenly  exclaimed  a  stern  voice  at  his  side.  Morton  turned 
hastily  round,  and  to  his  infinite  amazement,  beheld  Miles  Stan- 
dish,  standing  close  to  him  with  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand. 
At  the  same  instant  he  felt  himself  suddenly  seized  from  behind 
by  several  powerful  arms,  and  before  he  had  time  for  a  single 
struggle,  he  beheld  himself  a  prisoner.  At  that  very  moment 
there  was  a  louder  and  more  prolonged  peal  of  thunder,  at 
which  the  lunatic  uttering  a  sudden  and  sharp  cry  of  horror, 
started  to  his  feet,  looked  fearfully  round,  and  then  vanished 
into  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 


END   OF  VOLUME   I. 


MERRY-MOUNT; 


A   ROMANCE 


OF 


THE  MASSACHUSETTS  COLONY. 


"  O,  if  wo  could  but  see  the  shape  of  our  clear  mother  England,  as  poets  are  wont 
to  give  a  personal  form  to  what  they  pleate,  how  would  she  appear,  think  ye,  but  in 
a  mourning  weed,  with  ashes  upon  her  head,  and  tears  abundantly  flowing  from  her 
eyes,  to  behold  so  many  of  her  children  exposed  at  once,  and  thrust  from  things  of 
direst  necessity  ********  and  to  avoid  insufferable  grievances  at  homo,  enforced 
by  heaps  to  forsake  their  native  country."  —  MILTON. 


VOLUME   II. 


BOSTON    AND    CAMBRIDGE: 
JAMES     MUNROE     AND     COMPANY 

M  DCCC  XLIX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1848, 

BY  JAMES  MUNROE  AND  COMPANY, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


BOSTON  I       • 

THURSTON,   TORRY   AND    COMPANY, 
31  Devonshire   Street. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    FAREWELL 


CHAPTER    II. 
THE    ESCAPE  ]5 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE    HURRICANE 47 

CHAPTER   IV. 
THE  SIEC;E  OF  MERRY-MOUNT 52 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE    DOUBLE    LABYRINTH 68 

CHAPTER   VI. 

DISSIMULATION 83 

CHAPTER   VII. 

AN    ACCOUNT    SETTLED 89 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE    SECOND    APPARITION 101 

CHAPTER   IX. 

ENDICOTT    AT    NAUMKEAK 107 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE    PESTILENCE       .  .115 


4  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    WARNING 125 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    PLOTS    OF    CAKEBREAD 129 

CHAPTER  Xm. 

THE    GRAVE-DIGGER 137 

CHAPTER  XIY. 
THE  FALCON'S  LAST  FLIGHT 148 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    SUZERAIN    OF    MERRY-MOUNT    DEPOSED 172 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    GENERAL    COURT 188 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  KNIGHT'S  LAST  SCHEME 201 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    HERMIT    IN    THE    ASSEMBLY 220 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
AN  ADVENTURER'S  FORTUNES        227 

CHAPTER  XX. 
MAGDALEN'S  REQUIEM 238 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

CONCLUSION  ...  * 241 


NOTES    .  ....     251 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER     I . 

THE     FAREWELL. 

WHEN'  Henry  Maudsley  arose  from  a  brief  and  feverish  slum 
ber,  upon  the  morning  following  the  May-day  revels,  he  was  for 
some  time  at  a  loss  to  determine  whether  the  strange  events  of  the 
preceding  evening  had  not  all  been  a  delusion  and  a  dream. 
The  wild  accents  of  the  mysterious  youth  who  had  been  his  com 
panion  during  the  concluding  hours  of  the  day  were  still  haunting 
his  imagination,  but  who  the  stranger  was,  whence  he  derived 
such  singular  knowledge  of  his  own  history  and  most  secret 
thoughts,  and  for  what  reason  he  had  conceived  so  lively  an  in 
terest  in  his  welfare,  it  was  beyond  his  power  to  imagine. 

"  She  shall  yet  be  thine,  Harry  Maudsley,"  the  promise  utter 
ed  by  that  melodious  voice  still  rang  in  his  ear.  As  he  repeated 
the  words  mechanically  to  himself,  lifting  his  hands  as  he  did  so 
towards  his  head,  he  suddenly  felt  something  unusual  about  his 
throat.  What  was  his  surprise,  as  he  sprang  forward  to  the 
light,  to  find  suspended  from  his  neck  the  very  golden  chain 
which  he  had  seen  Esther  present  to  Gardiner  at  the  conclusion 
of  that  fatal  interview  which  had  so  lately  destroyed  his  dearest 
hopes  ! 

VOL.   II.  1 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


He  gazed  at  the  glittering  relic,  emblem  of  the  perfidy  of  one 
for  whom  he  could  have  found  it  in  his  heart  to  forfeit  both  earth 
and  heaven,  in  speechless  bewilderment.  He  clasped  it  to 
his  heart  for  one  moment,  at  the  next  he  tore  it  from  his  neck 
and  dashed  it  to  the  ground  with  the  fury  of  a  madman.  Sud 
denly  he  recollected  more  of  the  mysterious  words  of  his  late 
companion.  He  remembered  the  bold  prophecies  with  which 
the  stranger  had  flattered  his  heart ;  he  remembered  the  promise 
that  a  proof  of  his  power  should  be  displayed  to  him  upon  the 
dawn  of  this  very  morning,  and  behold  already  the  glittering 
pledge  was  there.  The  mystery  now  was  more  perplexing  than 
ever.  It  was  almost  impossible  for  him  to  resist  the  conviction 
that  he  was  the  victim  of  some  magic  spell.  Witchcraft  could 
alone  account  for  the  mysteries  which  were  spread  over  him  like 
a  net.  And  to  what  end  had  these  subtle  sorceries  been  woven? 
What  was  to  be  the  issue  of  the  strange  and  twilight  companion 
ship  which  had  suddenly  sprang  up  between  himself,  and,  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  this  shadowy  wanderer  from  some  unknown 
world  ?  Were  his  purposes  good  or  evil  ?  Was  he  abusing  the 
mystic  power  which  he  possessed  over  his  mind,  to  lead  him  to 
destruction,  or  was  he  a  beneficent  genius,  suddenly  appearing 
to  him  as  he  stood  upon  a  fearful  precipice,  to  warn  him  of  his 
danger,  and  to  lead  him  back  into  the  paths  of  happiness  whence 
he  had  wandered  so  far  ?  Was  Esther  likewise  subject  to  the 
influence  of  this  mocking  spirit  ?  'Twas  mystery  all.  Again 
he  lifted  the  chain  from  the  ground,  and  gazed  long  and  anxiously 
upon  it,  as  if  he  would  examine  every  slender  link  till  he  learned 
wherein  lay  concealed  the  heart  of  its  mystery.  But  the  chain 
revealed  not  the  secrets  of  the  magician,  although  it  indeed 
seemed  endowed  with  a  magic  of  its  own. 

For  an  instant,  as  he  dwelt  upon  the  pure  image  of  Esther,  he 
felt  that  he  could  have  prostrated  himself  before  her  as  at  the 
feet  of  an  enshrined  saint,  and  have  expiated  his  unworthy  and 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


degrading  thoughts  with  repentant  tears.  Had  lie  worshipped 
her  so  long  as  if  she  really  dwelt  in  a  purer  sphere  than  his  own 
stormy  world,  and  was  he  now  to  disown  all  the  past?  Was  not 
this  an  invention  of  the  great  tempter?  Was  it  not  all  devised 
as  a  fiery  ordeal  to  test  the  truth  of  his  devotion  ?  'T  was  impos 
sible  that  there  could  be  one  spark  of  sympathy  between  two 
such  characters  as  those  of  Esther  and  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner. 
More  delicate  and  sensitive  than  the  Venetian  goblet,  the  crystal 
purity  of  her  character  would  instinctively  reject  the  subtle  poison 
of  that  artful  mind.  He  would  seek  her  presence  once  more;  once 
more  he  would  pour  out  his  heart  to  her,  and,  what  his  pride  had 
hitherto  forbidden,  he  would  lay  his  destiny  in  her  hands  and 
swear  that  his  future  life  should  be  guided  by  her  own  wishes. 
Thus  struggling  against  his  convictions,  hoping  against  his  hopes, 
the  heart  of  Maudsley  was  tossed  to  and  fro  upon  a  stormy 
sea  of  passion  and  of  doubt.  Then  his  eyes  again  fell  upon 
the  fatal  chain.  The  snake-like  smile  of  Gardiner,  as  he  stood 
in  the  twilight  of  that  eventful  evening,  again  flashed  upon  his 
memory.  Again  the  words  of  the  mysterious  unknown  recur 
red  to  him,  and  he  did  indeed  acknowledge  that  both  their 
destinies  seemed  bound  together  by  a  chain.  'T  was  strange 
indeed,  he  thought,  as  he  gazed  upon  that  fragile  plaything, 
that  the  fate  of  so  many  beings  should  be  entangled  in  those 
slight  and  golden  meshes. 

It  so  happened  that  the  earnest  enthusiasm  of  Esther's  charac 
ter  had  just  began  to  awaken  a  corresponding  emotion  in  his 
own  breast,  even  at  the  moment  when  all  his  hopes  had  been 
dashed  to  the  earth.  He  had  made  his  way  originally  to  New 
England  with  but  one  object.  He  was  determined,  if  possi 
ble,  to  tear  Esther  from  the  life  of  gloomy  solitude  to  which  she 
had  so  fanatically  devoted  herself.  He  had  been  baffled.  His 
stormy  nature  vainly  dashed  itself  against  the  placid  but  unyield 
ing  enthusiasm  of  her  character,  as  the  wild  surge  dissolves  in 
foam  against  the  marble  cliff. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  estrangement  which  had  resulted  from  the  ill  success  of 
his  violent  entreaties  and  reproaches,  would  have  proved  but 
temporary.  The  love  inspired  by  such  a  woman  could  not  be 
uprooted  like  a  worthless  weed.  On  the  contrary,  the  natural 
and  necessary  effect  was  to  increase  Maudsley's  passion  a  thou 
sand  fold,  for  enthusiasm  is  apt  to  inspire  respect,  even  where 
it  fails  to  elicit  sympathy.  The  wild  scenes  into  which  he  had 
plunged,  to  bury,  if  possible,  the  recollection  of  his  love  —  the 
profligate  and  fantastic  creatures  who  had  surrounded  him  like 
a  horde  of  unholy  spirits,  had  produced  a  strange  and  sudden 
effect  upon  his  mind.  His  nature,  although  not  fickle,  was  im 
pressionable.  All  that  surrounded  him  in  the  wilderness  was 
odious,  and  his  heart  panted  after  the  serene  image  of  Esther 
with  a  renewed  and  redoubled  devotion,  as  if  her  presence 
alone  could  give  light  to  this  dreary  and  desolate  land  —  could 
exorcise  the  evil  demons  who  seemed  ravening  for  him  as  their 
prey.  His  mind  was  indeed  beginning  to  awaken  to  a  deeper 
appreciation  of  her  lofty  character.  The  contrast  between  the 
purity  of  her  life  and  the  unhallowed  ribaldry  in  the  midst  of 
which  he  had  lately  dwelt,  had  spoken  to  him  in  trumpet  tones. 
His  heart  was  softened,  his  pride  humbled,  his  resolution  weak 
ened.  His  whole  nature  was  ready  to  receive  a  durable  im 
pression,  perhaps  at  their  very  next  interview.  Deep  was 
already  calling  unto  deep,  and  from  the  profoundest  recesses  of 
his  heart,  there  had  arisen  at  last  an  answering  murmur  to  her 
own. 

It  was  at  this  very  point  that  the  great  misfortune  befell  him. 
A  few  hours  before  his  presence  at  the  fatal  interview  between 
Gardiner  and  Esther,  and  he  knew  not  what  sacrifices  he  was 
not  prepared  to  make.  He  was  ready  to  lay  himself  at  her  feet, 
to  implore  her  guidance  along  his  benighted  path.  And  now  he 
would  indeed  see  her  once  more.  He  was  impelled  towards  her 
irresistibly ;  but  alas  !  who  should  say  in  what  such  an  interview 
might  result? 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


Upon  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  he  found  himself  at  the 
residence  of  the  Ludlo\vs.  Walter  was  seated  under  a  tree  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  house,  lost,  apparently,  in  one  of  those  pen 
sive  reveries  which  were  habitual  with  him.  Maudsley  looked 
anxiously  around  for  Esther,  but  she  did  not  at  that  moment 
appear  to  be  in  her  brother's  company,  and  he  was  not  unwilling 
to  gain  a  little  time  to  collect  his  scattered  thoughts. 

"  The  heats  of  summer  are  already  upon  us,"  said  he,  accost 
ing  Ludlow. 

"  Aye,"  said  Ludlow,  acknowledging  Maudsley's  salutation, 
"  the  climate  of  New  England  is  more  intense  and  more  exciting 
than  that  of  our  own  land.  It  is,  however,  to  be  considered  for 
tunate  that  the  approaching  colony  will  not  arrive  like  the  early 
Plymouth  settlers  in  the  very  midst  of  a  rigorous  winter,  but  that 
some  few  months  will  be  afforded  them  to  make  preparations  for 
withstanding  the  winter's  siege.  But  I  cry  you  pardon,  Mas 
ter  Maudsley,  I  believe  you  feel  but  little  sympathy  with  the 
matter  to  which  I  allude." 

"Not  perhaps  so  lively  a  sympathy,"  answered  Maudsley, 
"  as  that  which  is  felt  by  one  who  is  near  and  dear  to  you.  It 

might  have  been but  no,  the  time  is  past,  the   feeling  dead. 

I  have  sought  you,  Master  Ludlow,  to  inquire  if  I  may,  in  any 
thing,  be  serviceable  to  you  in  England,"  concluded  he  abruptly. 

"And  do  you  purpose  returning  thither?"  answered  Ludlow. 

"  Such  is  my  intention  ;  "  replied  Maudsley. 

"  I  regret,"  continued  Ludlow,  "  that  no  spark  of  sympathy 
hath  been  awakened  in  your  bosom  for  the  sacred  cause.  There 
was  a  time  when  I  had  hoped,  that  in  the  pure  and  fervent  senti 
ment  which  seemed  to  bind  you  to  the  destinies  of  one  very 
dear  to  me,  there  might  be  found  an  element  of  a  still  more 
elevated  emotion.  I  grieve  to  think  that  this  should  be  all  past, 
Master  Maudsley;  but  I  have  no  disposition  and  no  right  to 
read  your  heart." 

1* 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


"The  heart  of  man  is  inscribed  with  strange  hieroglyphics," 
answered  Maudsley,  "  and  happy  is  he  who  possesses  the  key  to 
read  the  mysteries  of  his  own.  For  myself,  I  hardly  hazard  a 
conjecture  at  what  may  be  passing  within  the  souls  of  those 
around  me,  when  I  find  it  so  difficult  to  understand  my  own. 
Life  is  a  masquerade,  and  a  dull  one,  Master  Ludlow,  yet  wo 
to  him  who  would  tear  the  grinning  masks  from  the  features 
of  his  companions." 

"  You  are  almost  oracular  this  evening,"  answered  Ludlow, 
somewhat  perplexed  by  the  singular  humor  in  which  his  com 
panion  seemed  to  be  indulging;  "  but  to  recur  to  what  I  before 
observed,  I  regret  extremely  to  find  that  no  change  hath  come 
over  your  soul,  for  sooth  to  say,  I  had  fondly  anticipated  some 
such  event.  'Tis  a  disappointment  to  me,  Henry  Maudsley,  for  I 
felt  a  warm  confidence  that  the  bright  morning  of  religious 
revelation  was  really  about  to  dawn  upon  you.  Nay,  after  the 
extraordinary  conversion  of  the  proud  and  ambitious  knight, 
it  seemed  not  fantastic  to  hope  for  a  similar  change  in  so  much 
younger  and  fresher  a  soul." 

"  To  whom  do  you  allude?  "  cried  Maudsley,  with  a  sudden 
start. 

"  To  one  whom  men  call  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  And  is  he,  indeed,  one  of  those  whose  heart  hath  been  sud 
denly  changed  ? "  said  Maudsley,  governing  his  emotion  by  a 
violent  effort,  and  speaking  with  perfect  calmness. 

"  Aye,  he  is,  indeed,  a  striking  and  living  testimonial  of 
grace,"  answered  Ludlow.  "I  have  had  long  and  intimate 
interviews  with  him.  Without  revealing  to  me  the  details  of  his 
past  life,  he  hath  confessed  to  me  that  he  hath  been  but  little 
better  than  one  of  the  wicked.  But  the  Lord  hath  revealed 
himself  to  him  suddenly,  and  at  the  dead  of  night.  The  very 
hour  and  moment  of  his  new  birth  he  has  been  able  to  fix  with 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


singular  precision.  I  have  a  firm  conviction  that  this  erring 
man  hath  made  already  a  comfortable  progress  in  grace,  nor  do 
I  entertain  any  doubt  of  his  final  justification." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Maudsley,  with  an  imperceptible  sneer,  and 
still  speaking  with  forced  composure,  "  indeed  it  rejoiccth  my 
heart  exceedingly  to  hear  such  comforting  assurances  of  one,  of 
whom  I  had  scarcely  expected  such  tidings.  If  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner,  then,  be  truly  one  of  the  elect,  and  if  his  residence  in 
the  wilderness  is  likely  to  be  a  protracted  one,  I  may  surely 
congratulate  you  upon  such  a  valuable  acquisition  as  his  habitual 
companionship  must  be." 

"  Aye,"  answered  Ludlow,  dropping  his  voice,  and  speaking 
in  a  confidential  tone,  "  and  I  have  even  hopes  that  the  intimacy 
between  us  may  be  hallowed  and  cemented  by  a  still  closer 
bond  of  union.  You  have  known  me  well  enough,  Master 
Maudsley,  to  be  certain  that  it  was  for  a  long  time  the  dearest 
wish  of  my  heart,  that  the  union,  which  at  one  time  seemed  a 
most  likely  event,  between  my  sister  and  yourself,  might  sooner 
or  later  be  arranged.  Without  having  been  entirely  in  your 
confidence,  I  have,  however,  at  last  arrived  at  the  knowledge  that 
Providence,  from  the  first,  hath  not  ordained  such  a  consumma 
tion.  I  am,  however,  very  conscious  of  the  defects  of  my  own 
character.  I  can  at  times  look  clearly  upon  the  position  of 
Esther  and  myself;  but  perhaps  I  weary  you,  Master  Maudsley." 

"  Proceed,  Walter  Ludlow,"  answered  Maudsley,  waving  his 
hand  impatiently. 

"It  is  then  desirable,  as  you  will  easily  admit,"  continued  the 
other,  "that  Esther  should  have  a  protector  and  a  companion. 
How  long  I  may  remain  a  sojourner  in  this  weary  world,  I  know 
not,  but  I  am  at  best  but  a  wayfarer  and  a  pilgrim,  and  it  is  not 
right  nor  fitting  that  she  should  thus  devote  her  existence  to  one 
whose  path  is  ever  through  the  valley  of  dark  shadows.  I 
repeat  it,  Esther  needs  a  protector  and  companion,  and  such  I 


8  MERRY-MOUNT. 


believe  I  have  at  last  found  for  her.     You  see,  I  speak  with  per 
fect  frankness,  Master  Maudsley." 

"I  am  honored  by  your  confidence,"  replied  Maudsley,  speak 
ing  calmly,  but  in  tones  so  hoarse  and  unnatural,  that  almost 
any  one  but  Ludlow  must  have  been  struck  by  them,  "  and  I  am 
to  understand  then  that  the  protector  and  companion  so  desired 
for  Esther  Ludlow,  hath  at  last  been  found  in  the  person  of  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner." 

'*  Even  so,"  answered  Ludlow  quietly.  "  To  me,  the  adven 
tures  of  his  past  life,  whatever  they  may  have  been,  are  as 
nothing,  for  I  feel  an  earnest  conviction  that  he  is  a  regenerate 
man,  within  whom  the  Lord  hath  vouchsafed  to  renew  a  right 
spirit.  I  believe  you  have  but  a  slender  acquaintance  with  the 
worthy  knight,  Maudsley?" 

"  Death  and  furies,"  muttered  Maudsley,  who  still  stood  there 
with  wonderful  composure,  while  the  blind  and  dreaming  dotard 
was  searing  his  nerves  as  with  red-hot  irons,  "  am  I  to  endure 
these  tortures  forever ;  pray  Heaven  he  may  not  urge  me  to  use 
my  influence  with  Esther  in  favor  of  her  new  suitor  and  pro 
tector  !  Aye,"  continued  he  aloud,  in  reply  to  Ludlow's  question, 
"  my  acquaintance  with  the  worthy  knight  is  but  slender,  but  I 
trust  that  an  opportunity  will  soon  be  afforded  me  to  improve  it. 
He  is  not  at  present  sojourning  in  the  immediate  neighborhood, 
I  believe." 

"  No,"  answered  Ludlow,  "  he  is  at  present  tarrying,  for  certain 
private  reasons,  at  New  Plymouth.  But  he  is  expected  to  return 
to  his  old  residence  before  many  days.  I  am  glad  to  find  you 
disposed  to  improve  your  friendship  with  him." 

"  Trust  me,"  answered  Maudsley,  grinding  his  teeth  and 
speaking  in  almost  sepulchral  tones,  "  I  am  only  too  anxious  for 
an  opportunity.  May  death  alone  separate  us  afterwards !  " 

Ludlow  elevated  his  eyebrows  slightly,  as  he  listened  to  what 
he  considered  the  somewhat  exaggerated  expressions  of  Maudsley, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  9 


but  he  was  very  far  from  suspecting  what  was  really  passing  in 
his  heart.  He  was  indeed  one  of  those  who  are  incapable  of 
reading  the  most  common  events  which  pass  around  them,  to 
whom  the  souls  of  their  immediate  companions  are  as  sealed 
volumes,  and  who  are  therefore  thoroughly  incapable  of  sym 
pathizing  with  or  of  benefitting  those  who  are  nearest  and 
dearest  to  them,  even  with  the  warmest  and  purest  intentions. 
If  Maudsley  had  remembered  the  character  of  his  companion,  if 
he  had  reflected  upon  the  profound  ignorance  in  which  he  usu 
ally  dwelt,  as  to  the  feelings  of  those  around  him,  he  would 
perhaps  have  appreciated  more  justly  the  value  of  the  singular 
communications  which  had  just  been  made  to  him.  But  he  was 
at  the  moment  the  slave  of  passion,  and  the  whispers  of  reason 
were  powerless.  His  soul,  upon  reaching  the  residence  of 
Esther,  had  been  filled  with  the  most  conflicting  emotions.  The 
slow,  hesitating  communication  of  Ludlow  was  the  match  to  the 
mine.  He  had,  however,  governed  himself,  and  the  simple- 
minded  Ludlow  possessed  not  the  smallest  knowledge  of  the 
tempest  which  was  raging  in  his  companion's  bosom. 

"  You  will  find  Esther  in  her  garden,  I  believe,"  said  Ludlow, 
with  sudden  abruptness,  "  and  it  is  fitting  that  you  should  confer 
with  her  before  your  departure,  which  it  grieveth  me  to  hear  you 
announce  as  so  imminent.  A  few  letters,  however,  I  may  possi 
bly  desire  to  intrust  you  with.  For  the  present,  I  crave  your 
pardon  for  retiring  ere  the  daylight  be  spent,  for  I  have  left  a 
task  unfinished.  Farewell,  for  the  present ;  I  shall  find  you  at 
our  humble  evening  meal." 

With  this  Walter  Ludlow  suddenly  entered  the  house,  leaving 
Maudsley  almost  overwhelmed. 

The  evening  was  dreamy  and  delicious.  Even  at  that  early 
period  of  the  summer,  a  few  fireflies  were  already  flitting  over 
the  moist  fields,  looking  like  disembodied  spirits,  as  they  fitfully 
shone,  disappeared,  and  again  twinkled  into  existence,  hovering 


]0  MERRY-MOUNT. 


gently  and  noiselessly  over  the  damp  earth.  The  shades  of 
evening  were  gathering,  as  Maudsley,  advancing  a  few  steps 
from  the  spot  where  Ludlow  had  left  him,  suddenly  saw  Esther 
approaching  from  the  garden.  In  spite  of  all  his  resolution,  and 
notwithstanding  the  time  that  had  been  afforded  him  for  collect 
ing  his  thoughts,  his  heart,  which  had  been  beating  violently, 
seemed  to  stand  stock-still.  His  coward  blood  seemed  to  retreat 
upon  its  citadel,  and  his  whole  frame  shivered.  It  was  passing 
strange.  But  a  moment  before,  and  he  had  felt  as  if  he  could 
have  bidden  her  farewell  without  the  quivering  of  a  nerve.  He 
gazed  upon  her  entranced.  For  a  delicious  moment  he  shut  his 
eyes  wilfully  to  the  precipice  upon  which  he  was  standing,  and 
forgot  his  stormy  past,  his  dreary  future,  reckless  of  all  except 
his  idolatrous  and  irrepressible  love.  The  lava  torrent  which 
had  overwhelmed  his  existence  had  spared  one  single  flower,  and 
with  the  calm  avarice  of  despair,  he  slowly  plucked  it  as  it  grew 
there  upon  the  edge  of  desolation.  He  stood  still,  and  gazed 
upon  Esther,  who  was  not  yet  aware  of  his  presence,  as  if  in 
this,  his  last  interview,  he  would  crowd  into  one  brief  moment 
the  rapture  and  the  agony  of  years.  Never  had  she  seemed 
more  beautiful.  As  she  stood  there,  surrounded  by  the  dark 
and  solemn  scenery  of  the  forest,  where  the  murmuring  pine 
and  the  time-hallowed  oak  mingled  their  shadows  in  the  ad 
vancing  twilight,  she  seemed  like  some  fabled  forest  spirit,  some 
fountain-haunting  Egeria,  some  rapt  and  mysterious  priestess, 
suddenly  arisen  in  the  silent  wilderness  to  embody  the  softest 
dreams  of  poetry. 

Esther  started,  as,  upon  drawing  nearer,  she  perceived  Mauds- 
ley  standing  motionless  in  her  presence.  She  was  pained  at  the 
thoughts  of  this  approaching  interview.  Although  it  was  im 
possible  for  her  to  forget  the  past,  and  although  she  felt  that  the 
feelings  which  had,  as  it  were,  grown  with  her  growth,  could 
never  be  eradicated  from  her  bosom,  yet  she  had  taken  her  reso- 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


lution.  She  had  long  felt  convinced  that  it  was  an  unfortunate 
destiny  which  had  thus  entangled,  as  it  were,  rather  than  united, 
the  existences  of  two  persons  whom  Heaven  had  created  so  un 
like  in  character  and  opinion.  The  bright  hopes  which  she  had 
conceived  for  the  future,  in  the  midst  of  her  joy  at  the  sudden 
appearance  of  her  lover  in  the  wilderness  —  the  conviction  which 
had  been  forced  upon  her,  of  the  earnestness  and  depth  of  that 
passion,  which  had  impelled  him  to  pursue  her  thus  across  the 
world  —  had  all  been  destroyed  and  buried  in  the  disappointment 
which  she  felt  as  she  discovered  that  he  still  remained  un 
changed. 

She  greeted  him  coldly,  but  without  embarrassment. 

"  We  meet  again,  Esther  Ludlow,"  said  he  in  a  hoarse  tone, 
and  with  forced  composure  ;  "  we  meet  once  more,  and  for  the 
last  time." 

"  The  last  time  !  "  answered  Esther,  with  a  trembling  voice. 

"  Aye,"  answered  Maudsley,  gloomily.  "  What  hath  such  an 
one  as  I  to  do  in  this  wilderness.  The  prize  for  which  I  fondly 
strove  has  been  snatched  from  my  eager  grasp.  Surely  none 
knoweth  better  than  Esther  Ludlow  that  this  desert  is  no  place 
for  me." 

"  'Tis  true,"  she  answered,  mistaking  his  meaning,  and  speak 
ing  with  greater  firmness.  "  This  gloomy  desert  is  no  place  for 
one  so  light-hearted  and  so  impetuous  as  yourself.  Truly,  I 
marvelled  much  when  you  appeared  so  suddenly  in  this  distant 
world.  I  marvel  less  that  you  have  so  soon  grown  weary  of 
it." 

"  You  know  too  well,"  resumed  Maudsley,  "  why  I  am  in  this 
wilderness,  but  you  know  not  how  utterly  and  absolutely  I  was 
ready  to  lay  myself  at  your  feet.  When  I  remonstrated  with 
your  determination  ;  when  I  so  violently  urged  the  abandonment 
of  your  most  cherished  projects;  even  then  1  felt  the  influence  of 
what  seemed  your  sublime  enthusiasm  stealing  over  my  heart." 


12  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Is  this  indeed  true,  Henry  Maudsley  ?  "  interrupted  Esther, 
with  a  rapturous  expression  of  countenance. 

"  Even  then,"  continued  Maudsley,  in  the  same  gloomy  tone, 
without  noticing  the  interruption,  "  even  then  I  felt  a  strange 
influence  subduing  my  nature.  How  it  was  I  knew  not,  and 
cared  not,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  an  exalting  ecstasy  had  sud 
denly  mingled  with  and  hallowed  my  earthly  passion,  when  in  one 
fatal  moment  the  spell  was  rudely  broken." 

"  You  speak  indeed  in  parables,"  interrupted  Esther,  once 
more  gazing  upon  him  with  an  expression  of  wonder. 

"  And  yet  I  am  no  prophet  nor  soothsayer,"  answered  her 
lover,  "  but  a  weak,  deluded,  erring  fool.  Whence,  and  of  what 
nature,  was  the  sublime  vision  which  seemed  at  one  moment  to 
have  swept  over  my  senses?  Was  it  a  subtle  poison  distilled 
within  the  depths  of  a  treacherous  heart,  and  infused  into  my 
very  being  by  the  dark  magic  of  a  woman's  eyes?  And  was  this, 
only  this  to  be  the  result  of  my  enraptured  trances,  which  I 
mistook  for  the  presence  of  the  divine  spirit  ?  " 

"  Henry  Maudsley,"  said  Esther  with  calmness,  "  so  far  as  I 
can  discover  the  meaning  of  your  mysterious  language,  you  have 
dared  to  couple  the  term  of  treachery  with  my  name." 

"  Aye,"  answered  Maudsley,  still  speaking  like  a  man  in  a 
dream,  "  aye,  'twas  indeed  a  rude  awakening,  but  better  thus 
than  that  the  dark  poison  should  have  quite  overpowered  my 
senses ;  and  yet,  who  would  dare  even  to  believe  his  senses  ? 
who  would  not  rather  brand  them  as  liars  and  slanderers,  than 
reject  the  record  which  an  angel's  pencil  hath  written." 

"  Henry  Maudsley  !  "  cried  Esther,  in  an  accent  of  despair, 
for  it  suddenly  flashed  upon  her,  as  she  listened  to  this  utterly 
incomprehensible  language,  that  her  lover's  reason  was  unsettled. 
"  Henry  Maudsley,  for  the  love  of  God  look  not  thus  wildly 
upon  me.  Look  me  in  the  face,  if  you  have  ever  loved  me,  and 
tell  me  in  plain  language  what  is  this  dreadful  mystery  which 
seems  to  cast  a  shadow  over  your  mind?" 


MERRY-MOUNT.  13 


"  My  suspicions  may  be  baseless,"  he  continued,  "  pray  God 
they  prove  so !  for  your  welfare  even  now  is  dearer  to  me  than 
my  heart's  blood.  Remember  this,  however,  else  one  day  the 
reflection  may  flash  upon  you,  like  lightning  from  the  dark 
clouds,  which  seem  gathering  over  both  your  life  and  mine. 
Remember  this,"  continued  he,  looking  fixedly  upon  her, 
"  that  with  all  his  faults  and  follies,  Henry  Maudsley  was  no 
hypocrite.  May  God  protect  you  from  the  inextricable  snares 
of  hypocrisy !  " 

"  Hypocrisy,  Master  Maudsley !  "  exclaimed  Esther,  with 
flashing  eyes,  "  do  you  dare  to  charge  me  with  hypocrisy?" 

"God  forbid,  Madam!"  was  the  reply.  "I  know  your 
spirit  to  be  pure  and  noble.  I  bade  you  beware  of  hypocrisy, 
but  I  meant  not  that  the  hypocrisy  was  in  your  own  heart.  Less 
,  than  I  have  said,  I  could  not  say;  more,  I  have  neither  claim  nor 
wish  to  say.  Farewell,  Esther  Ludlovv,  farewell  forever.  'T  is 
a  word  which  I  came  hither  to  speak,  and  now  'tis  spoken. 
But  one  word  more,  and  my  task  is  accomplished.  Whatever 
betide  us  both,  now  that  we  are  forever  separated,  believe  me 
that  I  have  forgiven  you.  Believing  this,  you  may  yet  trust  to 
the  sincerity  of  a  heart  which  has  been  wholly  yours.  Should 
that  dark  day  come,  as  sooner  or  later  my  soul  prophecies  it 
must,  when  Esther  Ludlow  shall  require  a  friend  in  her  utmost 
need,  remember  that  there  is  one,  if  he  still  exists  upon  the 
earth,  will  cross  sea  and  land,  and  encounter  every  danger  to 
avert  evil  from  her  head." 

"  'T  is  time  that  this  strange  and  inexplicable  scene  should 
cease,"  answered  Esther,  who  felt  deeply  wounded,  as  well 
as  entirely  overwhelmed  with  wonder  at  what  seemed  to 
her  the  insulting  and  outrageous  demeanor  of  her  companion. 
"  To  what  hypocritical  snares  you  allude  in  such  a  mysterious 
manner,  I  know  as  little  as  I  do  the  nameless  crimes  for 
which  you  forgive  me  with  such  strange  magnanimity.  I  thank 

VOL.  II.  2 


14  MERRY-MOUNT. 


you  truly  for  the  confidence  which  you  still  place  in  my  charac 
ter,  although  I  think  it  would  be  more  kindly  exhibited  if  you 
would  deal  more  frankly  with  me.  Your  riddles  are  all  beyond 
my  intelligence,  and  seem  to  me  unworthy  of  yourself.  For 
your  generous  offer  of  assistance  in  the  time  of  trouble,  I  thank 
you,  but  I  trust  never  to  be  so  utterly  forlorn,  as  to  require  the 
protection  of  one  who  hath  been  so  unjust  and  so  insulting." 

With  these  words,  which  she  uttered  with  great  .dignity  of 
manner,  although  her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears,  Esther  was 
turning  from  the  spot,  when  Maudsley  hastily  detained  her. 

"  But  one  moment,  Esther.  I  answer  not  one  word  to  your 
reproaches,  and  God  shall  judge  between  us  two.  We  stand 
here  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  and  mysterious  world,  whose  super 
stitions  we  know  not,  the  spiritual  tenants  of  whose  forests 
we  know  not.  That  there  are  spirits,  whether  of  good  or  evil, 
who  haunt  these  solemn  and  sequestered  scenes,  I  know,  for  I 
have  myself  communed  with  such.  But  this  is  from  my  pur 
pose.  I  designed  to  leave  with  you  a  pledge  of  my  promise. 
Despise  that  promise,  if  you  will  —  the  day  may  come  when  you 
may  lack  a  true  and  loyal  friend.  Should  that  day  arrive,  look 
on  this  chain,  and  remember  Harry  Maudsley.  And  now,  fare 
well,  farewell,  Esther  Ludlow." 

As  he  uttered  these  concluding  words,  he  suddenly  flung  the 
mysterious  chain  around  Esther's  neck,  and,  with  a  hasty  stride, 
disappeared  into  the  twilight  shadows  of  the  forest. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    ESCAPE. 

THE  expectations  of  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  had  indeed 
been  proved  to  be  well  founded.  The  lord  of  Merry-Mount  had 
at  last  rendered  himself  so  obnoxious  to  the  Puritans  of  New 
Plymouth,  and  the  last  uproarious  proceedings  during  the  May 
day  festival  had  been  deemed  so  outrageous,  that  at  last  they 
had  determined  to  eject  him  from  the  colony. 

Their  aversion  to  him  was  no  doubt  mainly  founded  upon  his 
hostility  to  their  religious  tenets,  and  upon  his  rantipole  mode  of 
life,  which  was  necessarily  shocking  to  their  rigid  manners. 
Besides  this,  he  was  supposed  to  be  engaged  in  certain  myste 
rious  plots,  contrary  to  the  interest  and  comfort  of  the  Puritanic 
settlers.  He  was,  moreover,  openly  accused  of  dangerous  deal 
ings  with  the  Indians,  and  in  particular  of  supplying  them  with 
fire-arms,  and  teaching  them  the  use  thereof,  which,  according 
to  a  proclamation  of  King  James,  was  an  offence  against  the 
laws  of  England. 

As  for  the  merry  potentate  himself,  he  stoutly  maintained  that 
the  only  cfime  of  which  he  was  guilty  was  that  of  being  more 
skilful  and  successful  than  they  in  his  trading  with  the  savages, 
particularly  in  the  beaver  trade,  which  superiority  he  himself 
attributed  to  his  better  knowledge  of  the  Indian  language  and 
character,  and  to  the  greater  influence  which  he  had  been  able 
to  exert  over  their  minds.  According  to  himself,  he  was  ever 
upon  the  most  friendly  and  harmonious  terms  with  his  dusky 
neighbors,  and  he  repeatedly  asserted  that  he  had  received  infi 
nitely  more  kindness  and  hospitality  from  the  heathen  than  he  ever 


16  MERRY-MOUNT. 


did  from  the  Christian  inhabitants  of  New  England.  Envy  of 
his  own  success  was  in  his  opinion  the  main  cause  of  the  grudge 
which  the  Plymouth  people  bore  him,  and  the  main  reason  why 
they  had  at  last  determined  upon  open  hostilities  against  him. 

Although  he  had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  repeatedly  warned  of 
his  danger,  yet  the  reckless  buoyancy  of  his  character  had  led 
him  to  place  but  little  faith  in  the  evils  which  impended  over 
him,  so  that  he  had  in  the  very  time  of  danger  conducted  him 
self  like  a  most  unskilful  general,  and  a  most  impolitic  monarch. 
His  forces,  which  should  have  been  concentrated  at  his  own 
capital,  to  protect  him  against  the  threatened  invasion,  were 
unhappily  engaged  in  distant  forays  far  away  in  the  interior, 
and  the  sovereign  of  Merry-Mount  himself  now  found  himself 
alone,  and  at  a  distance  from  his  palace,  suddenly  confronted 
and  made  a  prisoner  by  his  most  redoubtable  enemy. 

The  apparition  of  Captain  Standish  had  been  so  sudden  and 
so  unexpected,  and  the  capture  of  Morton  so  instantaneous,  that 
it  seemed  almost  as  if  the  Plymouth  hero  had  really  been  pos 
sessed  of  some  of  the  marvellous  attributes  ascribed  to  him  by 
the  lunatic,  who  had  just  disappeared  into  his  cave.  There  was 
something  too,  in  the  savage  scene  around  —  in  the  wild  and 
fitful  appearance  of  the  threatening  sky,  in  the  distant  mutter- 
ings  of  the  thunder,  the  stifling  atmosphere,  and  the  unnatural 
light  which  was  streaming  from  the  sky  long  after  the  shadows 
of  evening  should  have  covered  the  earth,  which  *might  have 
inspired  a  lively  or  a  timorous  imagination  with  a  sensation  of 
awe. 

There  stood  the  famous  captain,  armed  to  the  teeth,  with 
uplifted  sword  and  threatening  eye,  motionless  as  a  statue;  and 
there  stood  the  luckless  Morton,  with  his  arms  securely  pin 
ioned,  and  surrounded  by  half  a  dozen  stout  fellows,  suddenly 
and  completely  in  the  power  of  the  foe  whom  his  lips  had  just 
been  scoffing. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  17 

Morton  stood  stock-still,  looking  at  the  calm  and  immovable 
image  before  him,  and  for  a  moment  could  not  but  believe  him 
self  the  victim  of  a  horrid  night-mare.  'T  was  impossible  that  it 
could  be  real.  He  had  heard  no  footsteps,  seen  no  movement 
in  the  thickets,  not  a  leaf  had  rustled.  These  six  armed  men, 
with  that  dreaded  commander  at  their  head,  had  risen  out  of  the 
earth  to  daunt  him.  'T  was  an  invention  of  the  evil  one.  He 
had  the  night  before  seen  the  portentous  vision  of  the  flaming 
sword  in  heaven.  It  had  not  moved  his  soul — why  should  this 
terrestrial  vision  appal  him  ? 

"  Aroint  thee,  Sathanas !  "  said  he  at  last,  striving  as  it  were 
to  arouse  himself  from  a  dream.  "  Aroint  thee,  evil  one,  and 
keep  thy  bugbears  to  frighten  madmen  and  children  withal.  I 
fear  them  not,  they  move  me  not.  '  Justurn  et  tenacem  pro- 
posi' » 

"  By  the  Lord,  'tis  no  fever  dream  after  all,  or  if  it  be,  'tis  a 
damned  obstinate  and  chronic  one  of  its  kind,"  added  he  upon 
finding,  after  struggling  and  shaking  himself  very  vigorously,  that 
the  armed  phantoms  did  not  fade  away,  and  that  he  was  still  re 
tained  in  durance  by  his  captors. 

"  Thy  struggles  are  useless,  thou  foolish  mischief-maker," 
said  Standish,  speaking  at  last,  although  still  remaining  in  the 
same  motionless  attitude.  "Thou  art  my  prisoner,  and  if  thou 
inclinest  to  retain  that  giddy  head  upon  thy  shoulders,  I  would 
earnestly  recommend  submission." 

"  So,  the  ghost  hath  a  tongue  as  well  as  a  sword,  hath  he?" 
said  Morton  to  himself,  in  a  low,  bewildered  tone.  "  And  yet, 
truly,  I  heard  his  voice  before,  but  't  was  then  a  fancy  of  my 
brain,  I  thought.  By  Jupiter,  Son  of  Saturn,  here  is  a  pretty 
predicament  for  a  sachem  and  a  sovereign;"  and  with  this,  he 
relapsed  again  into  meditation,  still  gazing  with  a  rueful  and 
puzzled  expression  upon  his  adversary. 

Miles  Standish,  who  thus  confronted  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount, 
2* 


18  MERRY-MOUNT. 


was  as  small  of  stature  as  he  was  heroic  in  spirit.  Scarcely 
elevated  above  the  dimensions  of  a  dwarf,  he  yet  possessed  so 
well  knit  and  muscular  a  frame,  that  no  man  who  looked  upon 
him,  much  less  one  who  had  seen  or  felt  the  vigor  of  his  arm, 
but  would  have  almost  preferred  an  encounter  with  a  giant  than 
a  contest  with  this  small  but  intrepid  hero.  His  countenance 
was  bronzed  with  exposure,  his  features  were  bold  and  martial, 
and  his  eye  was  full  of  fire.  Although  he  was  not  much  past 
middle  age,  his  temples  were  bare  and  his  beard  grizzled.  He 
was  at  this  moment  arrayed  in  the  military  costume  of  the  period, 
and  wore  a  round  iron  morion,  with  a  narrow  rim,  upon  his 
head ;  a  cuirass  and  back-piece  of  steel,  a  doublet  and  hose  of 
tawny  leather,  and  held  a  long  double-edged  sword  in  his  hand. 
His  six  followers,  who  were  picked  men  from  the  Plymouth  colo 
ny,  were  likewise  clad  in  the  same  defensive  armor.  They  were 
morever  armed  with  long,  heavy  snaphances,  or  matchlocks,  held 
long  forked  staffs,  which  were  called  rests,  in  their  left  hands, 
while  from  their  left  shoulders  and  across  their  chests  were  sus 
pended  broad  bandileers,  holding  a  string  of  charges  for  their 
muskets,  contained  in  small  tin  cylinders.  It  was  very  evident 
that  they  were  out  upon  an  expedition  which  was  considered  seri 
ous  and  important. 

As  for  Captain  Standish,  enough  was  known  by  Morton  of  his 
character  and  history,  to  give  him  ample  assurance  that  he  was 
not  a  personage  to  be  trifled  with.  Although  the  master  of  Merry- 
Mount  was  very  prone,  when  at  his  own  palace  and  among  his 
own  adherents,  to  indulge  in  various  witticisms  at  the  expense  of 
the  pigmy  of  Plymouth,  yet  in  his  heart  he  well  knew  that  he 
was  a  most  intrepid  champion  and  a  most  dangerous  adversary. 
.  Miles  Standish  was  indeed  one  of  the  most  striking  and  pic 
turesque  characters  which  appear  upon  the  first  and  most  heroic 
page  of  New  England's  annals.  Descended  from  a  younger 
branch  of  an  ancient  and  honorable  house  in  England,  and  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  19 


legal  heir  to  the  family  estates,  which  had  at  last  devolved  upon 
him  as  the  head  of  the  family,  but  which  were  surreptitiously 
and  unjustly  detained  from  him,  he  had  become  wearied  of  pros 
ecuting  his  claims  amid  the  thousand  obstacles  interposed  by  un 
just  power  and  the  law's  chicanery.  He  had  sought  and  acquired 
honorable  distinction  in  the  pursuit  of  arms.  He  had  served 
with  distinction  in  the  Low  Countries,  in  the  army  which  Eliza 
beth  had  sent  to  assist  the  struggling  Hollanders,  and  after  the 
truce  he  had  served  with  honor  upon  other  battle-fields.  lie 
had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  pilgrims  of  Robinson's  com 
pany,  while  sojourning  at  Leyden,  and  when  the  emigration  to 
America  was  resolved  upon,  he  had  either  volunteered  or  receiv 
ed  an  invitation  to  associate  himself  with  them.  Although  no 
rigid  Puritan  himself,  and  not  a  member  of  their  church,  his 
sympathies  had  been  entirely  enlisted  in  their  cause,  and  he  had 
sailed  with  them  in  the  Mayflower.  From  the  first  moment 
when  these  poor  but  heroic  outcasts  set  foot  upon  the  rock  of 
Plymouth,  the  intrepid  Standish  had  proved  a  most  invaluable 
assistant  to  them.  His  bravery,  military  experience,  iron  perti 
nacity  of  purpose,  insensibility  to  fatigue  and  privation  of  every 
kind,  were  qualities  which  constituted  him  'a  most  admirable 
champion  and  military  leader  for  this  small  and  feeble  colony  in 
their  dangerous  enterprise.  Always  foremost  in  every  expedition, 
whether  to  explore  the  country,  to  treat  with  the  savages,  or  to 
give  them  battle  when  they  were  disposed  to  hostility,  he  was 
equally  serviceable  at  home  in  laying  out  their  town,  construct 
ing  their  fortifications,  and  training  and  disciplining  the  colonists 
in  the  use  of  arms. 

Considering  himself  the  military  servant  of  the  company,  he 
had  accepted,  without  hesitation,  the  expedition  which  had  been 
determined  upon  against  the  troublesome  master  of  misrule,  as  the 
Puritans  designated  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount,  and  had  taken  with 
him  six  trained  and  trusty  fellows,  in  whose  conduct  and  valor  he 


20  MERRY-MOUNT. 


most  confided.  Although  it  was  supposed  that  Morton  had  a  very 
considerable  body  of  adherents  domesticated  near  him,  yet  the 
number  of  men  composing  the  expedition  was  considered  quite 
enough  to  take  possession  of  his  strong  hold  and  to  secure  his 
person.  With  about  the  same  number,  Standish  had  crushed 
the  great  Indian  conspiracy,  and  quelled  forever  the  spirit  and 
the  hostility  of  the  Massachusetts  savages. 

It  was  by  pure  accident  that  Standish,  upon  his  way  by  sea  to 
Merry-Mount  had  paused  at  Wessaguscus,  and  by  a  still  more 
singular  accident  that  he  had  chanced  then  and  there  to  find  all 

O 

alone  and  unprotected  the  object  of  his  search.  Proceeding 
towards  his  pinnace,  from  which  the  party  had  disembarked 
during  a  calm,  Standish,  who  was  in  advance  of  his  followers, 
had  heard  voices  through  the  thicket  along  which  he  was  pass 
ing.  With  his  usual  caution  and  readiness,  he  had  enjoined 
silence  and  secrecy  upon  his  companions,  and  had  crept,  unper- 
ceived  by  the  unsuspecting  Morton,  close  to  the  spot  from 
whence  the  voices  issued.  There,  to  his  no  small  astonishment 
and  gratification,  he  had  suddenly  beheld  the  well-known  form 
of  the  sovereign  of  Merry-Mount,  quietly  conversing  with  the 
miserable,  crack-brained  outcast,  the  last  remnant  of  Weston's 
ill-starred  colony,  upon  trifling  and  indifferent  matters.  At  a 
nod  of  their  commander,  his  followers  had  noiselessly  surround 
ed  and  captured  their  prize,  as  we  have  already  seen,  at  the 
very  moment  when  a  jesting  and  contemptuous  allusion  to  Cap 
tain  Standish  was  falling  from  his  lips. 

Morton  had  stood  gazing  for  a  few  moments  in  utter  bewil 
derment  at  this  sudden  and  unexpected  apparition,  but  was 
slowly  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  it  was,  indeed,  no  vision  of 
his  imagination. 

"  By  Jupiter  Diespiter,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  "  this  is  the 
valorous  Shrimp  in  propria  persona,  and  with  a  lobster's  shell  on 
his  back,  armed  in  proof,  and  making  night  hideous.  I  think 


MERRY-MOUNT.  21 


'tis  no  vision  after  all.  Most  valiant  gentleman,"  continued  he 
suddenly  aloud,  and  addressing  himself  to  his  enemy,  "  would 
it  be  presumptuous  to  inquire  whether  you  are  in  reality  the 
illustrious  Captain  Miles  Standish,"  (it  did  not  seem  at  that 
moment  natural  to  call  him  Captain  Shrimp,)  "  or  merely  some 
fantastic  apparition?  " 

"That  my  name  is  Standish,"  answered  the  person  addressed, 
"  is  probably  as  well  known  to  thyself  as  to  me.  That  I  am 
here  in  substantial  flesh  and  blood,  hath  been  sufficiently  made 
known  to  thee  already.  Furthermore,  I  would  request  thee  to 
spare  me  thy  stale  witticisms.  We  of  Plymouth  have  but  small 
relish  for  the  buffoonery  which  is  so  rampant  at  Merry-Mount. 
And  I  would,  moreover,  advise  thee  to  collect  what  reason  thou 
mayest  possess  in  that  crazy  brain  of  thine,  that  thou  mayest  be 
better  prepared  than  at  present  thou  seemest,  to  answer  the  inter 
rogatories  of  the  grave  fathers  of  Plymouth." 

"  Truly,  most  valiant  captain,"  answered  the  crest-fallen 
Morton,  "I  have  not,  at  this  present  time  and  tide,  the  smallest 
intention  to  seek  the  society  of  those  grave  and  respectable 
personages.  Therefore,  it  would  hardly  seem  necessary  in  me 
to  prepare  answers  to  any  catechism  with  which  it  might  be 
their  desire  to  indulge  me." 

"  But  I  tell  thee,"  answered  Standish,  "  that  thou  art  to  appear 
before  them  before  the  year  is  many  days  older,  whether  it  be 
thy  intention  or  inclination  to  visit  them  or  no,  for  it  is  most 
assuredly  my  intention  to  escort  thee  thither,  with  as  brief  a 
delay  as  may  be." 

"  This,  then,  is  what  I  should  term  enforced  hospitality," 
answered  the  other,  "  for  which  I  shall  be  likely  to  render  but 
little  gratitude.  You  have  basely  and  surreptitiously  obtained 
command  of  my  person,  contrary  to  the  laws  of  the  English 
realm,  under  whose  protection  I  presume  that  I  dwell, 
even  in  this  Ultima  Thtile,  or,  for  thy  better  apprehension, 


22  MERRY-MOUNT. 


in  this  remote  wilderness.  The  majesty  of  the  Jaw  is  not  to  be 
trifled  with,  Master  Standish,  and  evil  consequences  may  alight 
on  the  heads  of  those  who  dare  to  be  guilty  of  so  grave  an 
offence.  I  warn  thee  to  detain  me  at  thy  own  peril." 

"  I  am  no  pettifogger,  Master  Morton,"  answered  Standish, 
"  and  I  have  neither  ability  nor  inclination  to  argue  legal  points 
with  thee.  I  am  a  soldier,  and  have  quite  skill  enough  to  read 
and  to  understand  my  orders.  Those  orders  are  to  assure  myself 
of  thy  person  at  all  hazards,  and  to  bring  thee  presently  to  the 
plantation  of  New  Plymouth,  and  those  orders,  look  you,  I  pur 
pose  to  execute." 

"  And  by  what  authority,  may  it  please  your  most  arbitrary 
captainship,"  answered  Morton,  "  do  you  dare  thus  to  lay  vio 
lent  hands  upon  an  unoffending  subject  of  his  Majesty,  King 
Charles  ? " 

"  Truly,  as  I  neither  consider  myself  the  prisoner  in  this 
instance,"  answered  Standish,  whose  quick  temper  was  already 
ruffled  by  the  cool,  complacent,  and  somewhat  ironical  demeanor 
of  his  captive,  "  nor  thyself  as  the  judge  appointed  to  try  the 
cause  between  us,  I  shall  no  longer  brook  thy  insolence,  and  I 
counsel  thee  to  imitate  my  discretion  in  this  particular,  and 
forthwith  to  hold  thy  peace." 

"  This  little  chimney  is  soon  fired,"  quoth  Morton  to  himself, 
"  a  taller  one  might  ^quietly  consume  within  itself  these  little 
sparks  ;  but  your  little  heroes  are  ever  puffing  and  smoking.  I 
pray  the,  good  Master  Standish,"  continued  he  aloud  in  a  more 
courteous  and  good-humored  tone,  "  be  not  so  easily  inflamed 
by  the  natural  resentment  of  a  free  denizen  of  the  wilderness  as 
well  as  a  loyal  subject  of  his  Majesty,  at  losing  his  natural  birth 
right  of  freedom,  and,  as  he  humbly  conceives,  without  due  cause. 
I  did  but  purpose  to  try  conclusions  with  thee  upon  this  matter  ; 
surely  it  would  be  no  extraordinary  stretch  of  condescension 
upon  thy  part,  to  inform  me  a  little  touching  the  crimes  with 


MERRY-MOUNT.  03 


which   I   stand   charged,  and   the  authority  by  which  I  am  ar 
rested." 

"  The  squall  will  soon  be  upon  us,"  said  Standish,  abruptly, 
to  his  followers,  without  heeding  the  last  observation  of  his 
prisoner.  "  We  shall  hardly  expedite  our  journey  by  taking  to 
the  pinnace  to-night.  Moreover,  as  the  object  of  our  expedition 
is  already  accomplished,  and  our  journey  considerably  abridged 
by  this  fortunate  encounter  with  the  merry  gentleman,  whom  we 
have  come  so  far  to  seek,  I  propose  to  take  up  our  quarters  for 
the  night  at  the  ruined  fort,  whence,  with  the  earliest  dawn  we 
will  set  sail  for  Plymouth." 

The  night  had,  in  truth,  advanced,  as  they  stood  parleying 
with  the  prisoner.  The  atmosphere,  however,  still  retained  its 
lurid  glare  and  its  suffocating  stillness.  The  tempest,  which  was 
brooding  in  the  distance,  still  delayed  its  coming. 

The  place  where  Morton  had  been  captured,  was  in  an  open 
hollow,  surrounded  by  wooded  hills  of  moderate  elevation,  and 
not  far  from  the  mouth  of  the  river  which  gave  its  name  to  the 
abandoned  plantation.  A  difficult  pathway,  overgrown  with 
brushwood,  wound  through  the  ravine,  and  led  to  an  ancient 
clearing  upon  a  more  elevated  plain,  where  a  few  scattered  and 
dilapidated  huts  still  stood,  the  last  remnants  of  the  unsuc 
cessful  settlement.  Thither  it  was  the  intention  of  Captain 
Standish  to  conduct  his  prisoner,  because,  as  he  had  already 
informed  his  companions,  the  threatening  aspect  of  the  weather 
rendered  it  advisable  to  postpone  the  voyage  to  the  morrow. 

Morton  was  accordingly  accommodated  with  a  rope,  securely 
fastened  about  his  loins,  and  placed  in  the  immediate  custody  of 
two  sturdy  and  grim-faced  Puritans,  who  were  expressly  ordered  to 
shoot  him  down,  if  he  offered  to  make  his  escape.  In  this  igno 
minious  condition,  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  was  obliged  to  follow 
close  upon  the  heels  of  the  small  hero  whom  he  had  so  often  de 
rided,  and  who  now  led  the  way  through  the  bushes  ,and  along  the 


24  MERRY-MOUNT. 


almost  impenetrable  pathway,  with  a  firm  and  rapid  step.  Mor 
ton,  whose  confidence  in  himself  had  not  deserted  him,  and  who 
still  nourished  hopes  of  escape  from  the  awkward  dilemma  in 
which  he  found  himself,  affected  the  most  perfect  submission, 
and  followed  patiently  after  his  leader,  slily  testing  the  strength 
of  the  knot,  however,  as  he  advanced,  and  eagerly  watching  an 
opportunity  to  slip  out  of  his  noose,  and  to  roll  down  the  side  of 
the  hill,  when  he  trusted  easily  to  elude  pursuit  under  cover  of 
the  almost  impervious  thickets.  His  hunting-knife,  which  was 
the  only  weapon  he  had  with  him,  had  unfortunately  been  taken 
from  him  at  the  moment  of  his  capture,  and  he  found  the  knot 
so  securely  tied,  and  the  cord  so  obstinately  tough,  that  all  his 
efforts  to  loosen  or  break  it  proved  fruitless.  As  they  were  pass 
ing,  however,  through  a  very  deep  shade,  and  along  the  edge  of 
a  somewhat  precipitous  ledge  of  granite,  he  suddenly  gave  the 
rope  a  furious  jerk,  and  threw  himself  bodily  over  the  sloping 
precipice.  His  mano3uvre  was  only  partially  successful ;  his 
two  sturdy  guardians,  who  had  wound  the  cord  securely  about 
their  wrists,  retained  their  hold  upon  him,  although  they  were 
unable  to  maintain  tlieir  balance,  upon  this  sudden  and  unex 
pected  strain.  All  three  rolled  headlong  down  the  precipice, 
which  might  have  been  some  twenty  or  thirty  feet  in  descent, 
and  plunged  with  a  crashing  noise  into  the  thick  underwood 
at  the  base  of  the  rock.  One  of  the  matchlocks  was  harmlessly 
discharged  in  the  catastrophe,  and  the  three  lay  for  a  moment 
struggling  together  in  the  darkness  and  confusion.  Standish, 
who  was  a  few  paces  in  advance,  comprehended  in  an  instant 
what  had  probably  occurred,  and  sprang  like  a  tiger  down  the 
cliff,  in  the  direction  whence  came  the  confused  noise  of  the 
struggle. 

There  was  light  enough  remaining,  to  enable  him  to  observe 
that  the  prisoner's  attempt  had  been  unsuccessful,  and  all  the 
party  being  already  upon  their  legs  again,  having  sustained  no 


MERRY-MOUNT.  35 

farther  damage  than  a  few  scratches  and  bruises  in  their  descent, 
he  ordered  them  forthwith  to  make  the  prisoner's  bonds  still 
more  secure,  and  then  to  follow  round  the  base  of  the  ledge,  till 
they  could  ascend  again  to  the  narrow  pathway  which  they  had 
lost. 

"  So  thou  wouldst  bid  us  farewell  so  soon,"  said  he,  in  an 
angry  tone,  to  his  captive.  "  Trust  me,  thou  knowest  little  with 
whom  thou  hast  to  deal,  or  thou  wouldst  desist  from  such  trifling. 
I  advise  thee  to  follow  at  my  heels  quietly  for  the  remainder  of 
thy  journey,  or  I  shall  send  thee  on  a  longer  journey  at  a 
moment's  warning,  and  one  for  which  thou  art  even  less  pre 
pared  than  for  the  present  one.  Be  wiser,  then,  scapegoat ;  a 
further  attempt  will  be  fatal  to  thee." 

"  Scapegoat  in  thy  teeth,"  muttered  Morton,  considerably 
vexed,  and  somewhat  battered,  by  the  unsuccessful  result  of  his 
attempt  —  "scapegoat  in  thy  teeth,  thou  peppery,  waspish,  un 
mannerly  drummer's  boy  !  A  plague  upon  it,"  continued  he, 
in  a  louder  tone,  "  't  is  bad  enough  to  be  bruised  in  body,  by  an 
accidental  plunge  from  yonder  precipice,  and  truly  there  needs 
no  browbeating  in  addition.  I  tell  thee  I  was  cast  down  from 
the  rock  against  my  will,  even  like  the  Tarpeian  virgin  of  an 
cient  story,  and  by  the  Lord,  was  I  well  nigh  suffocated  by  the 
martial  ornaments  that  were  showered  down  along  with  me. 
Escape!  and  why,  truly,  should  I  care  to  escape?  What  crimes 
am  I  charged  withal  ?  '  Integer  vitce,  scelerisque  purus,'  et 
cetera,  et  cetera." 

Muttering  and  discoursing  in  this  fragmentary  and  voluble 
manner,  Morton  followed  again  his  captors  through  the  bushes, 
but  finding  his  eloquence  lost  upon  Standish,  he  soon  relapsed 
into  solemn  silence. 

No  further  opportunity  for  escape  presenting  itself  during  the 
remainder  of  their  brief  and  rapid  tramp  through  the  woods,  he 

VOL.  II.  3 


26  MERRY-MOUNT. 


soon  found  himself  emerging  with  his  companions  into  the  open 
plain  which  was  to  be  the  termination  of  their  journey. 

Though  the  night  was  already  somewhat  advanced,  it  was  not 
so  dark  but  that  Morton  could  easily  note  the  appearance  and 
bearing  of  the  different  objects  about  him,  with  which  he  had 
long  been  familiar.  There  were  at  that  moment,  so  far  as  he 
knew,  no  tenants  in  the  dismantled  and  decayed  huts  which  were 
here  and  there  scattered  along  the  clearing,  but  within  the  centre 
of  the  plain  he  knew  that  there  was  a  larger  tenement,  which  had 
been  kept  from  time  to  time  in  tolerable  repair,  for  the  use  of 
the  trading  and  fishing  parties  who  occasionally  resorted  thither. 
This  was  the  building  which  had  been  designated  by  Standish 
as  the  ruined  fort,  because  it  had  in  truth  served  as  a  block 
house  or  citadel  in  the  early  days  of  the  settlement,  although 
there  was  now  only  enough  left  of  it  to  serve  as  a  tolerable  pro 
tection  against  the  weather,  and  although  it  was  never  occupied, 
except  temporarily  and  at  distant  intervals. 

Hither,  accordingly,  the  party  bent  their  way,  and  soon  en 
tered  the  dilapidated  tenement.  It  was  a  dismal  looking  edifice 
enough,  although,  for  a  summer's  night,  its  dismantled  and  un 
comfortable  condition  was  hardly  of  consequence.  The  party 
would  naturally  have  preferred  bivouacking  in  the  open  air,  as 
was  their  usual  custom  upon  such  expeditions,  but  as  the  night 
threatened  to  be  stormy,  and  as  they  had  a  prisoner  to  guard,  it 
was  thought  more  advisable  to  take  possession  of  this  building. 

The  house  consisted  of  two  rooms,  the  larger  opening  directly 
from  the  door-way,  and  the  second,  which  was  smaller,  commu 
nicating  only  with  the  first.  There  was  an  old  oaken  bedstead 
in  the  innner  room,  which  had  accidentally  escr.ped  destruction, 
and  was  the  only  piece  of  furniture  in  the  whole  mansion. 
There  was  a  single  narrow  and  unglazed  window  placed  very 
near  the  ceiling  of  the  larger  room,  and  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
opposite  side  was  occupied  with  an  immense  fire-place,  which  at 


MERRY-MOUNT.  27 

that  season  of  the  year  was  not  likely  to  be  used.  It  would  have 
hardly  dispensed  much  comfort,  had  the  weather  been  colder, 
as  the  chimney  itself  had  toppled  down  at  some  previous  period, 
making  a  chasm  in  the  roof,  and  leaving  a  large  heap  of  bricks 
and  rubbish  scattered  over  the  earthern  floor.  In  this  cheerful 
abode,  the  whole  party  were  now  assembled,  and  a  light  being 
soon  struck,  and  two  or  three  pine  torches  lighted,  Morton  was, 
much  to  his  satisfaction,  relieved  of  his  bonds,  and  allowed  to 
seat  himself  upon  the  ground  along  with  the  others.  None  of 
the  party  having  taken  any  refreshment  since  the  morning,  and 
their  appetites  having  been  sharpened  by  their  rugged  march, 
they  now  produced  their  stores  of  dried  bears'  meat  of  which 
they  invited  Morton  to  partake.  He,  however,  thought  proper 
to  decline  their  proffered  hospitality,  knowing  that  fasting  would 
keep  him  watchful,  and  sat  rather  at  a  distance,  amusing  him 
self  with  observing  at  his  leisure  the  appearance  of  his  new  com 
panions. 

The  rude  apartment,  with  its  walls  and  roof  formed  of  naked 
and  smoke-stained  rafters,  the  damp  and  earthy  odor  from  the 
clayey  floor,  and  the  wild  glare  of  the  yellow  torchlight,  har 
monized  well  with  the  grim  figures  who  occupied  that  lonely 
dwelling.  They  had  disencumbered  themselves  of  their  defen 
sive  armor,  and  were  all  seated  in  their  buff  jerkins  upon  the 
ground,  seeming,  with  their  closely  shorn  heads,  stern  features, 
grizzled  beards,  and  rigid  demeanor,  about  as  formidable  guar 
dians  and  uncongenial  companions  to  the  merry  Lord  of  Merry- 
Mount  as  he  could  possibly  have  desired.  Their  iron  head 
pieces,  corslets  and  matchlocks  were  piled  together  in  the  centre 
of  the  apartment;  the  outer  door  was  barred,  and  one  of  the  sol 
diers  sat  with  his  back  planted  against  it,  while  the  others  sat 
together  in  a  circle.  The  one  who  seemed  to  be  the  oldest  of 

C.1 

the  party  now  pronounced  a  long,  enthusiastic  prayer,  in  which 
a  blessing  was  asked  upon  the  food  of  which  they  were  about  to 


28  MERRY-MOUNT. 


partake ;  thanks  were  rendered  for  the  signal  success  which  had 
crowned  their  expedition,  and  fervent  ejaculations  of  horror  were 
added  at  the  graceless  condition  of  the  profane  sinner,  whose 
misdeeds  had  at  last  provoked  chastisement  from  the  fleshly  arm 
of  authority.  This  preliminary  concluded,  the  party  proceeded 
to  devour  their  food  in  solemn  silence,  and  for  many  minutes  no 
sound,  save  the  steady  crunching  of  their  iron  jaws,  disturbed 
the  quiet  of  the  scene. 

The  lively  spirit  of  Morton  began  to  grow  impatient  at  the 
imperturbable  repose  which  pervaded  the  assembly.  He  had 
determined  to  fast  that  he  might  be  more  watchful,  for  he  was  re 
solved  to  make  his  escape  during  the  night,  if  the  slightest  chance 
for  doing  so  should  offer  itself.  Being,  however,  of  a  sociable 
disposition,  not  being  a  whit  abashed  nor  provoked  by  the  very 
pointed  allusions  to  his  own  unregenerated  condition,  contained 
in  the  somewhat  lengthy  exhortation  of  which  he  had  been  an 
auditor  ;  feeling,  moreover,  his  spirits  recovering  their  buoyancy 
as  he  revolved  in  his  mind  a  variety  of  projects  for  escape,  and 
being,  moreover,  desirous  to  place  himself  upon  better  terms 
with  his  captors,  that  he  might,  if  possible,  disarm  their  vigilance 
and  thus  procure  a  greater  chance  of  success  for  his  efforts,  he 
was  sorry  to  observe  the  absolute  and  rigid  silence  maintained  by 
the  whole  party. 

"Truly  a  loquacious  and  cheerful  company,"  muttered  he  im 
patiently  to  himself.  4<  Madwags,  all !  Now,  by  Jupiter,  I  could 
even  find  it  in  my  heart  to  request  yon  granite-faced  fellow, 
who  hath  been  prophesying  so  much  to  my  discredit,  to  strike 
up  the  hundredth  psalm,  by  way  of  enlivening  the  repast. 
Shade  of  Heliogabalus !  is  it  not  appalling  to  witness  the  steady 
grinding  of  provender  between  those  ponderous  jaws  of  theirs. 
Thank  Heaven,  they  have  some  signs  of  grace,  still,  and  I  have 
still  hopes  of  them.  He  who  will  moisten  his  clay  a  little,  however 
hard  baked  and  rigid  it  hath  become,  is  not  to  be  despaired  of." 


MERRY  MOUNT.  09 


Tliis  last  muttered  ejaculation  was  elicited  by  observing  that 
as  the  meal  drew  near  its  close,  several  of  the  party  produced 
from  their  pouches  certain  round  flasks,  of  comfortable  dimen 
sions,  which  they  passed  about  among  eacli  other,  occasionally 
diluting  their  potations  with  draughts  of  water,  with  which  one 
of  the  iron  head-pieces  had  been  filled  from  a  spring  near  the 
house.  Morton  was  briefly  invited  to  partake  of  this  refresh 
ment,  and  not  to  appear  singular,  and  to  avoid  exciting  suspicion, 
he  complied,  although  he  prudently  refrained  from  doing  more 
than  moisten  his  lips.  Pipes  and  tobacco  were  now  produced, 
and  upon  the  whole  the  party  began  to  assume,  in  the  eyes  of 
Morton,  a  more  favorable  aspect.  The  silence  was  at  last  broken 
by  the  elderly  person  who  had  held  forth  before  supper,  and 
who,  after  Standish,  seemed  the  most  considerable  person  of  the 
party. 

"  What  thinkest  thou,  brother  Standish,  of  the  result  of  Isaac 
Allerton's  recent  voyage  to  England?"  said  he.  "I  have  had 
small  opportunity  to  confer  with  him  since  his  late  return,  but 
methinks  two  hundred  pounds  at  thirty  per  cent,  is  no  such 
mighty  negotiation." 

"Truly  I  am,  as  thou  well  knowest,"  answered  Standish, 
somewhat  testily,  —  for  he  had,  himself,  not  many  years  before, 
been  sent  upon  a  financial  mission  to  England,  the  result  of 
which,  as  the  honest  soldier  was  but  little  skilled  in  money  mat 
ters,  was  the  procurement  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  for  the 
use  of  the  colonies,  at  the  moderate  interest  of  fifty  per  cent.  — 
"  truly  I  am,  as  hath  been  sufficiently  proven,  but  a  child  in  mer 
cantile  matters,  nor,  if  the  truth  were  known,  do  I  care  to  in 
crease  my  skill,  seeing  that  my  profession  arid  natural  temper  do 
but  slightly  fit  me  for  such  pursuits.  I  was  born  and  bred  a 
soldier,  Master  Neegoose,  and  am  perhaps  better  fitted  to  deal 
with  a  bear  or  a  Pokanoket  savage  than  a  money-changer,  whom 
I  take  to  be  a  more  dangerous  animal  than  either.  As  for  Isaac 
3* 


30  MERRY-MOUNT. 

Allerton,  truly  I  believe  that  what  man  could  accomplish,  he  hath 
done.  Thou  well  knowest,  that  early  after  our  arrival  at  New 
Plymouth  he  accompanied  me,  alone,  and  of  his  own  free  will, 
to  the  abode  of  Massassoit,  and  I  will  say  that  it  required  no  small 
amount  of  bravery  on  the  part  of  one  like  Master  Allerton,  not 
bred  to  arms,  thus  voluntarily  to  venture,  as  it  were,  into  the 
lion's  mouth,  for  nothing  was  known,  at  that  moment,  of  the 
temper  and  disposition  of  the  red-skins." 

"  Most  true,  brother  Standish,"  answered  Neegoose,  "I  enter 
tain  no  doubt  of  Master  Isaac's  courage,  but  even  as  thou  hast 
thyself  but  just  observed,  other  qualifications  rnay  be  neces 
sary  to  bring  about  a  negotiation  of  lucre  to  a  hopeful  termi 
nation  " 

"  Well,  well,  Master  Neegoose,"  interrupted  Standish,  who 
was  not  much  more  of  a  logician  than  a  financier,  and  who  had 
no  inclination  to  pursue  the  topic  —  "  the  negotiations  of  Master 
Allerton  have  doubtless  been  as  successful  as  my  own,  and  I 
have  small  cause  to  cavil  at  his  proceedings.  As  for  me,  so  far 
as  concerneth  my  own  agency  in  England,  the  colony  would 
have  suffered  but  little  loss,  had  the  Turkish  corsair,  which  ran 
away  with  the  ship  which  accompanied  my  own,  even  taken 
possession  of  my  unworthy  person  also,  or  had  the  plague,  which 
devoured  forty  thousand  wretches  in  London  during  the  year  of 
my  visit,  even  swallowed  me  likewise.  So  I  say  again,  far  be  it 
from  me  to  censure  too  severely  the  course  of  Isaac  Allerton." 

"  Ah,  brother  Standish,"  answered  Master  Neegoose,  '•  we 
well  know  the  dangers  both  of  flood  and  field,  which  threatened 
thee  during  thy  voyage,  and  at  London.  Well  do  I  remember 
the  lamentations  which  were  loud  upon  our  tongues,  when  we 
heard  of  the  fearful  pestilence  walking  by  noon-day,  to  which 
thy  valuable  life  was  exposed.  Truly,  most  thankful  were  we  to 
the  Lord  at  thy  escape,  and  most  devoutly  did  we  sing  praises 
to  the  God  of  Jacob  that  he  did  deliver  our  blessed  turtle- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  31 

dove  from  the  multitude  of  dangers  which  compassed  him 
around." 

The  small  but  truculent  Miles  Standish  certainly  bore  little 
resemblance  to  a  turtle-dove,  but  this  happening  to  be  the 
only  scriptural  quotation  which  the  worthy  Neegoose  had  on 
hand  at  the  moment,  he  was  obliged  to  content  himself  there 
with.  Having  found,  moreover,  that  his  worthy  captain  was 
not  particularly  inclined  to  discuss  and  criticise  the  result  of 
Master  Allerton's  embassy,  which  was  at  the  moment  the  latest 
topic  of  interest  at  New  Plymouth,  he  proceeded  to  discourse 
somewhat  at  length  upon  the  probability  of  the  same  gentleman's 
being  able  to  procure  a  patent  from  the  company  in  England, 
for  the  territory  which  the  colony  then  occupied  without  per 
mission  of  the  owners. 

"  I  am  no  lawyer,"  answered  Standish,  after  listening  to  a 
long  and  somewhat  confused  harangue  upon  this  topic,  from 
the  worthy,  but  somewhat  prosy  Abraham  Neegoose,  "  but  I 
will  venture  to  pronounce  this  opinion,  that  neither  Master 
Allerton,  nor  any  other  agent  of  the  colony,  is  likely  to  find  a 
patent  for  our  territory,  unless  he  carry  a  golden  key  with  him, 
to  unlock  the  cabinet  where  they  keep  such  matters  in  England. 
Small  difficulty  hath  been  found  by  Sir  Henry  Rosewell,  Sir 
Richard  Saltonstall,  and  other  wealthy  and  influential  knights 
and  gentlemen  of  the  Massachusetts  colony,  in  procuring  their 
patent,  and  the  first  ships  are  even  now  upon  the  way.  But 
we  of  New  Plymouth  are  weak  and  poor,  and  must  even  bide 
patiently  for  a  season." 

"  Aye,"  answered  Master  Neegoose,  '« we  are  as  yet  but  a 
handful  of  corn  in  the  earth  upon  the  top  of  a  mountain,  but  the 
fruit  thereof  shall  shake  Lebanon.  Still  it  may  be  that  we  shall 
be  overshadowed  by  the  new  colonists  who  are  speeding  hither. 
'T  is  a  pleasant  country  the  Massachusetts,  and  I  could  wish 
we  had  ourselves  been  seated  there." 


22  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  comforting  fluid  had  during  this  conversation  been  circu 
lating  decorously,  but  freely,  and  Morton,  observing  that  the 
rigidity  of  the  company  had  somewhat  thawed,  drew  nearer,  and 
appeared  attentive  to  the  conversation,  by  which  he  was  appa 
rently  much  edified.  Thankfully  accepting  the  flask  which  was 
again  handed  to  him  by  one  of  the  company,  he  raised  it  to  his 
lips,  and  bowing  politely  to  brother  Neegoose,  he  remarked, — 

"  Hunc  scyphum  tibi  propino,  which  in  the  vernacular," 
added  he,  upon  observing  the  grim  stare  with  which  that  re 
spectable  individual  received  this  outlandish  address,  "is,  I 
drink  to  your  very  good  health,  worthy  Master  Neegoose,  and  a 
pleasant  ending  to  an  acquaintance  so  auspiciously  begun." 

"  Firstly,"  answered  the  worthy  corporal  Neegoose,  for  such 
was  his  rank  in  the  little  army  of  Plymouth,  "  firstly,  I  do  hold 
the  drinking  of  healths  to  be  a  profane  and  unnecessary  invoca 
tion  ;  secondly,  I  entertain  doubts  whether  it  be  lawful  for  an 
unregenerate  man  even  to  pray  in  company  with  the  elect,  arid 
I  feel  a  conviction  that  it  is  unlawful  for  him  to  drink  in  their 
company  ;  thirdly,  thy  whole  character  and  proceedings  are  dis 
tasteful  to  me,  and  that  thou  mayest  be  sure  I  have  small  cause 
to  affect  thy  society,  know  that  the  worthy  and  pious  Faint-not 
Mellows,  whom  upon  a  recent  occasion  thou  diddest  so  sorely 
maltreat,  is  brother  unto  my  wife,  and  this  being  the  case,  thou 
mayest  suppose  that  I,  even  I,  am  somewhat  inclined  to  resent 
his  wrongs." 

"  Whew "  whistled  Morton  to  himself,  at  this  agree 
able  piece  of  information,  '*  I  have  indeed  treed  the  wrong 
bear,  and  had  I  possessed  the  smallest  suspicion  of  thy  dis 
tinguished  matrimonial  relationship,  I  would  have  seen  thee 
damned  ere  I  meddled  with  thy  most  grisly  saintship.  Master 
Neegoose,"  continued  he  aloud,  "  touching  the  third  head  of 
thy  discourse,  and  waiving  the  two  preceding  as  likely  to  lead 
us  into  longer  argument  than  may  be  desirable  at  this  time  and 


MERRY-MOUNT.  33 


tide,  I  would  even  beg  leave  to  inform  thee  that  the  worthy  and 
pious  Faint-not  Mellowes,  as  you  very  properly  term  him,  hath 
received  no  injury  at  hands  of  mine.  True  he  was  somewhat 
disconcerted  at  the  rude  gambols  of  certain  waggish  retainers  of 
mine,  but  they  meant  no  mischief,  and  I  have  checked  and 
corrected  them  therefor,  and  they  repent.  This  leads  me  once 
more  respectfully  to  inquire,"  continued  he,  turning  abruptly  to 
Captain  Standish,  who,  without  paying  much  heed  to  the  con 
versation  between  the  prisoner  and  the  corporal,  was  solacing 
himself  with  a  quiet  pipe  of  tobacco  in  a  corner  of  the  room, 
"  why  I  have  been  tied  thus  by  the  loins  like  a  monkey,  and 
forcibly  haled  hither  like  a  colt  to  a  fair,  in  manner  and  form 
altogether  derogatory  to  my  dignity,  and  prejudicial  to  my  com 
fort  ?  In  short,  of  what  crime,  or  misdemeanor,  am  I  accused, 
and  by  what  authority  am  I  thus  deprived  of  my  liberty  ? " 

"  By  the  authority  of  the  Governor  and  Company  of  New  Ply 
mouth,"  answered  Standish,  drily,  without  taking  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth. 

"  I  know  no  such  governor  nor  any  such  company,"  returned 
the  prisoner. 

"  Thou  art  likely  soon  to  become  better  acquainted  with 
them,"  answered  the  captain,  "  as  I  purpose  to  present  thee  to 
them  within  four  and  twenty  hours." 

"  Aye,"  persisted  Morton,  "  but  the  Governor  and  Company 
of  New  Plymouth  have  neither  patent  for  the  land  which  they 
themselves  wrongfully  occupy,  nor  royal  charter  for  exercising 
jurisdiction  in  any  part  of  New  England,  or  any  other  portion 
of  the  universe.  How  dare  they  then  intermeddle  with  a 
peaceful  settler,  far  removed  from  their  plantation,  and  forcibly 
deprive  him  of  his  liberty  ?  " 

"  I  am  no  pettifogger,"  answered  Standish,  "  and  meddle  not 
with  matters  not  pertaining  to  my  profession.  If  thou  art 
inclined  to  argument,  my  life  for  it,  thou  shalt  hear  reasoning 


34  MERRY-MOUNT. 


enow  from  the  worthy  magistrates  themselves,  therefore  I 
counsel  thee  not  to  waste  thy  wisdom  and  thy  wit  upon  me, 
but  to  reserve  them  till  they  be  wanted." 

11  And  I  counsel  thee,"  continued  Morton,  somewhat  nettled 
at  the  cool  and  contemptuous  manner  of  his  captor,  "  and  I 
counsel  thee  to  think  twice  ere  thou  carriest  out,  to  its  consum 
mation,  the  foul  conspiracy  in  which  thou  art  engaged." 

"  And  I  tell  thee,  Master  Mischief-maker,"  answered  Standish, 
"  that  I  have  seized  thy  body,  because  to  that  effect  were  the 
company's  orders.  If  they  had  ordered  me  to  bring  thy  head 
simply,  I  should  have  brought  thy  head,  by  which  proceeding  I 
should  have  been  spared  much  trouble,  besides  the  necessity  of 
listening  to  thy  tedious  and  irrelevant  discourse." 

"Here's  an  arbitrary  giant,"  muttered  Morton  to  himself, 
"  here's  a  most  hot-headed  and  hyperbolical  Hop-of-my-thumb. 
A  man's  argument  against  his  own  kidnapping  is  tedious  and 
irrelevant  forsooth,  and  I  suppose  if  the  tiny  little  devil  had  his 
knife  at  my  weasand,  it  would  be  an  impertinent  pleonasm  upon 
my  part  to  strike  it  away." 

"  Master  Standish,"  continued  he  aloud,  in  a  very  lofty  and 
dignified  tone,  "  it  is  by  no  means  my  intention  to  quarrel 
personally  with  you.  I  do  not  purpose  to  undervalue  your 
strength,  your  valor,  nor  even  your  geometrical  height  I  am 
aware  that  the  renowned  Wittewamutt,  who  derided  the  small- 
ness  of  your  stature,  was  himself  made  a  head  shorter  for  his 
insolence.  I  am  aware  that  you  brought  home  the  savage 
chieftain's  head  in  your  breeches  pocket,  as  a  keepsake  for 
those  gentle  employers  of  yours  at  New  Plymouth.  I  am,  how 
ever,  well  aware  also  of  the  motives  of  this  violent  assault  upon 
my  personal  liberty." 

"  Then  why,  in  the  name  of  Satan,"  answered  the  doughty 
little  hero  testily,  dashing  his  pipe  upon  the  earth  as  he  spoke, 
"  then  why,  in  the  name  of  the  foul  fiend,  hast  thou  asked  me 


MERRY-MOUNT.  35 


so  many  questions  about  it?  Being  so  wise  thyself,  methinks 
thou  mightest  have  spared  me  the  din  of  thy  discourse.  How 
much  longer,  I  pray  thee,  will  that  damnable  tongue  of  thine  be 
wagging  ?  " 

Corporal  Neegoose,  and  the  rest  of  the  company  looked  some- 
somewhat  shocked  at  the  irreverent  expressions  used  by  Miles 
Standish  in  the  first  ebullition  of  his  wrath.  Being,  however, 
not  altogether  unused  to  such  demonstrations  upon  the  part  of 
their  commander,  who  was  not  famous  either  for  moderation  of 
temper,  or  for  puritanic  daintiness  of  language,  they  looked 
composedly  on,  as  the  choleric  soldier  strode  up  and  down  the 
small  apartment,  with  his  long  sword  clanking  after  him  at  every 
step,  and  vented  his  indignation  in  a  few  abrupt  sentences. 

"  How  long  am  I  to  be  pestered  with  thy  insolence  ?"  said  he. 
"  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  must  be  troubled  with  thy  entertainment 
and  transportation  to  Plymouth,  but  thou  must  weary  mine  ears 
also  with  thy  endless  prating?  How  long,  I  demand  again,  wilt 
thou  continue  to  wag  that  accursed  tongue  of  thine  ?  " 

"  In  sooth,"  answered  the  imperturbable  Morton,  who  rather 
enjoyed  the  ill  humor  of  his  antagonist,  —  "in  sooth  if  I  wag 
my  tongue,  Master  Standish,  'tis  because  I  have  nothing  else 
to  wag.  Stood  we  foot  to  foot  together  upon  the  outside  of 
this  dungeon  where  thou  now  boldest  me  cribbed  and  pent,  and  \ 
were  I  equipped  with  a  blade  as  trusty  as  thine  own,  per 
haps  thou  mightest  find  me  apt  to  wag  other  weapons  than  my 
tongue." 

At  this  magnificent  effusion  of  heroism  on  the  part  of  Morton 
who  would,  perhaps,  have  been  somewhat  disconcerted  at  being 
taken  at  his  word,  the  wrath  of  the  hot-tempered  Standish 
became  quite  incontrollable. 

"  By. heaven  !"  he  shouted,  as  he  turned  upon  his  prisoner,  like 
a  tiger,  "  by  heaven  !  I  can  hold  no  longer.  This  insolence 
shall  be  forthwith  dealt  with.  Though  the  servant  of  the  pious 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  peaceable  pilgrims,  I  am,  perhaps,  more  of  a  soldier  than  a 
saint,  and  since  thou  demandest  it,  insolent  braggart,  thou  shalt 
be  indeed  put  to  the  proof." 

As  he  uttered  these  words  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  still  raging 
up  and  down  the  little  room,  he  made  a  sudden  dart  at  the  pile 
of  arms  upon  the  centre  of  the  floor,  apparently  with  the  inten 
tion  of  ferreting  out  a  sword  for  the  express  behoof  of  the  Lord 
of  Merry-Mount. 

That  worthy  looked  a  little  uncomfortable,  as  he  saw  the 
effect  produced  by  his  last  sarcasm,  but  was  soon  relieved  from 
what  might  have  proved  an  embarrassing  position,  by  the  worthy 
Neegoose,  who  now  thought  it  necessary  to  interfere,  to  prevent 
this  singular  scene  from  being  continued  any  farther. 

"What  ails  thee?  valiant  brother  Standish,"  said  he  advanc 
ing  with  great  solemnity  of  voice  and  manner,  and  endeavoring 
to  calm  the  impetuosity  of  Standish,  who  was  pacing  about  with 
great  vehemence  —  "  'What  ails  ye,  ye  mountains,  that  ye  skip 
like  rams,  and  ye  little  hills,  like  Iambs?'  Why  art  thou  so 
sorely  vexed  at  the  idle  and  vain  buffoonery  of  him  who  is  little 
better  than  as  one  of  the  wicked.  Bethink  thee  of  thy  own 
position,  of  thine  own  character,  and  the  dignity  of  the  grave 
and  reverend  magistrates.  Forego  thy  rash  intention,  and  let 
not  the  child  of  Belial  gain  advantage  over  us.  I  pray  thee 
conduct  thyself  rather  like  a  calm  and  skilful  commander  than 
as  a  hot-brained  man  of  wrath." 

"  Truly,  Master  Neegoose,  I  believe  thou  art  right,"  answered 
Standish,  whose  wrath  was  beginning  to  cool  again,  almost  as 
suddenly  as  it  had  waxed  hot,  as  he  reflected  upon  the  absurdity 
of  his  proceeding,  and  upon  the  advantage  which  he  should  give 
his  prisoner,  by  thus  yielding  to  the  dictates  of  his  angry  temper. 
"Truly,  thou  art  right,  and  I  am  an  ass,  a  peppery,  uncomfort 
able  blockhead,  thus  to  be  flouted  of  my  humor  by  the  taunts 
of  a  worthless  vagabond."  Thus  rebuking  himself  as  testily  as 


MERRY-MOUNT.  37 


he  had  but  just  now  abused  his  prisoner,  the  worthy  champion 
of  Plymouth  seated  himself,  by  a  violent  effort,  plump  upon  the 
floor  again,  and  lighting  a  fresh  pipe,  began  to  puff  so  furiously, 
that  his  head  was  soon  enveloped  in  smoke,  and  the  tempest  of 
his  wrath  seemed  for  a  time  obscured  and  overcome  by  the 
clouds  compelled  from  his  pipe. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Morton,  taking  up  the  thread  of  his  dis 
course,  when  he  saw  that  this  sudden  storm  had  subsided,  and 
that  the  only  danger  at  present  to  be  apprehended  from  indulging 
his  license  of  speech,  was  merely  that  the  dialogue  would  prove 
a  soliloquy  —  "well,  as  I  before  had  the  honor  to  observe,  I 
know  well  the  motives  of  this  assault  upon  me.  The  plantation 
of  Merry-Mount  is  a  trifle  too  flourishing ;  the  beaver  trade  is  a 
trifle  too  successful.  Ye  of  New  Plymouth  were  but  bears'  whelps 
once,  and  I  feared  ye  not ;  but  ye  have  grown  to  be  bears 
now,  (and  very  gruff  and  uncomfortable  bears  ye  are  too,)  and 
would  eat  up  all  the  cakes  and  honey-combs  to  be  found  in 
Canaan.  I  know  the  cause  of  your  high-handed  proceedings, 
and  I  promise  ye  the  star-chamber  shall  hear  of  it  before  I  have 
done  with  ye ." 

"  Cease,  vain  man,  from  thy  idle  and  frivolous  discourse," 
said  Corporal  Neegoose,  who,  observing  that  the  commander  of 
the  party  only  silently  puffed  at  his  pipe  with  redoubled  fury 
during  the  continuance  of  Morton's  disjointed  abjuration, 
thought  it  necessary  to  interpose  to  check  the  current  of  the 
prisoner's  invective.  "  Let  me  assure  thee,  once  for  all,  that 
thy  conspiracies  are  all  discovered,  and  it  shall  go  hard  but  that 
the  dissolute  nest,  which  thou  with  vain-glorious  folly  dost  de 
nominate  thy  palace  at  Merry-Mount,  shall  be  soon  levelled  to 
the  ground.  Crushed  shall  it  be,  even  like  a  nest  of  hornets, 
and  its  idle  and  licentious  brood  of  tenants  scattered  to  the 
angry  winds  of  heaven.  '  Moab  is  my  washpot,  over  Edom  will 
I  cast  out  my  shoe,  saith  the  Lord.'  I  tell  thee,  Merry-Mount, 

VOL.  II.  4 


38  MERRY-MOUNT. 


which  should  be  rather  termed  Mount  Dagon,  shall  be  de 
stroyed,  it  and  all  that  therein  dwells.  Aye,  thou  Master  of 
Misrule,  even  so  hath  it  been  ordained." 

"  You  have  spoken,"  Corporal  Neegoose,  answered  Morton, 
"  but  whether  wisely  or  not,  let  the  night-owl,  whom  I  hear 
screeching  just  now,  decide.  As  I  find,  however,  that  my  con 
versation  is  so  little  relished,  I  will  even  address  myself  to  sleep, 
and  have  accordingly  the  honor  to  wish  rosy  dreams  and  peace 
ful  slumbers  to  ye  all." 

No  one  seemed  inclined  to  oppose  this  resolution  on  the  part 
of  the  prisoner,  which,  as  the  night  was  already  well  advanced, 
seemed  on  the  contrary  a  very  reasonable  one.  It  was  arranged 
by  the  commander  that  Morton  should  be  placed  for  greater 
security  in  the  inner  room,  and  that  Corporal  Neegoose  should 
occupy  a  part  of  the  old  bedstead  with  him,  provided  the  pris 
oner  should  choose  to  avail  himself  of  that  luxurious  piece  of 
furniture. 

The  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  accordingly  took  up  his  quarters  in 
the  interior  apartment  accompanied  by  the  worthy  corporal.  The 
others,  including  the  valiant  captain,  disposed  themselves  ac 
cording  to  their  pleasure  upon  the  floor  of  the  outer  room,  one 
of  the  party  stretching  himself  for  additional  security  across  the 
outer  door. 

It  was  not  long  before  a  general  concert  of  discordant  and 
inharmonious  sounds  announced  that  the  whole  party  were  fast 
asleep,  all  save  the  prisoner,  who,  in  his  own  language,  de 
scribing  the  occurrence  afterwards,  was  as  wakeful  as  the  geese 
of  the  capitol.  He  had,  upon  first  lying  down,  affected  great 
drowsiness,  and  had  taken  pains  to  fall  very  soundly  asleep,  in 
appearance,  before  the  senses  of  the  corporal  were  steeped  in 
forgetful  ness ;  so  that  the  simple-minded  functionary,  who  was 
especially  charged  with  the  safe-keeping  of  the  prisoner,  was 
completely  disarmed  of  all  suspicion,  and  resigned  himself  tran- 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


quilly  to  his  slumbers  almost  as  soon  in  reality  as  Morton  had 
done  in  appearance. 

Morton  lay  very  quietly  for  nearly  an  hour.  The  night  was 
already  far  advanced,  and  as  the  days  were  at  the  longest,  it  was 
not  safe  to  delay  his  attempt  at  escape  too  long.  Much  to  his 
surprise,  the  weather,  so  far  as  he  could  judge  from  the  faint 
glimmering  at  the  window  in  the  other  room,  seemed  tolerably 
clear.  What  had  become  of  the  storm  which  had  worn  so 
threatening  an  aspect  in  the  afternoon,  and  which  had  been  so 
alarming  to  the  nerves  of  the  subterranean  philosopher  of 
Wessaguscus,  did  not  distinctly  appear.  Morton  had  lain  there, 
reflecting  upon  a  thousand  different  topics,  listening  to  'the  dis 
cordant  variety  of  nasal  melody  which  proceeded  from  the  outer 
room,  and  endeavoring  to  detect  the  particular  organ  of  the 
heroic  Standish  amid  the  general  concert,  till  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  been  lying  there  since  the  creation,  or  at  least  since 
the  discovery  of  America,  and  he  became  at  last  so  nervous  and 
impatient  that  he  felt  the  moment  was  come  when  he  must  ab 
solutely  arhe  and  make  the  experiment,  or  else  remain  there  the 
whole  night  through. 

A  peal  of  distant  thunder  now  suddenly  broke  through  the 
external  silence  and  confirmed  him  in  his  intention.  The  storm 
was,  after  all,  coming  on,  and  a  sharp  squall,  with  thunder  and 
lightning,  would  be  sure  to  make  such  a  pother  about  the  crazy 
tenement  that  the  party  would  be  awakened  and  kept  watchful 
for  the  remainder  of  the  night.  He  determined  to  arise,  but 
there  were  two  difficulties  which  presented  themselves  at  the 
outset.  In  the  first  place,  the  dreaming  corporal,  in  the  uncon 
scious  expansiveness  of  sleep,  had  wound  his  arms  around  Mor 
ton's  neck,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  loosen  his  hold  without 
awaking  him.  In  the  second  place,  if  he  was  even  fortunate 
enough  to  extricate  himself  successfully  from  this  iron  embrace, 
he  had  to  make  his  way  in  the  dark  across  the  floor  of  the  outer 


40  MERRY-MOUNT. 


room,  which  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  paved  with  the  upturned 
faces  of  his  captors.  Of  course  he  dared  not  strike  a  light,  and 
to  make  his  way  to  the  door,  which,  moreover,  he  knew  to  be 
barricaded  with  the  body  of  one  of  the  party,  without  awakening 
any  one,  seemed  a  very  difficult  task. 

"Truly,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  "Master  Corporal  Nee- 
goose,  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  dispense  with  these 
clinging  arms  of  thine,  which,  however  endearing  they  may 
be  to  the  worthy  good  wife  Neegoose,  if  such  an  enviable 
female  exists,  are,  just  now,  most  particularly  in  the  way 
of  your  humble  servant.  By  thy  leave,  then,  most  evangelical 
of  corporals,"  continued  he  in  an  inaudible  monotone,  as 
he  daintily  and  dexterously  untwisted  the  hard  knot  in  which 
the  corporal  had  tied  his  bony  arms  about  his  neck,  without 
awakening  him,  "  by  thy  permission,  I  will  even  leave  thee 
to  thy  chaste  and  solitary  slumbers."  Muttering  thus,  he 
groped  his  way  stealthily  from  the  bed  as  far  as  the  entrance  to 
the  other  room,  when  he  paused  for  a  moment  upon  the  thresh 
old,  deliberating  how  he  should  proceed.  It  was  so  dark  that 
he  could  only  guide  himself  by  the  ear,  and  he  was  particularly 
anxious  not  to  plant  his  foot  upon  the  face  of  the  sleeping  Stan- 
dish,  feeling  well  assured  that  if  that  fiery  hero  should  be  awaken 
ed,  he  would,  if  necessary,  stop  his  further  progress  with  a  brace 
of  bullets,  without  the  smallest  hesitation.  While  he  was  thus 
taking  counsel  with  himself,  and  wondering  how  he  should  be 
able  to  make  his  way  to  the  outer  door  without  having  a  more 
definite  notion  of  the  condition  of  the  floor  than  he  at  that  mo 
ment  possessed,  the  scene  was  suddenly  illuminated  by  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

Morton  readily  took  advantage  of  the  circumstance  and  rap 
idly  examined  the  appearance  of  the  apartment.  The  single 
glance  was  almost  sufficient  to  dash  his  hopes  to  the  earth.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  the  prostrate  forms  of  his  captors,  all  of 


MERRY-MOUNT.  41 


them,  however,  wrapped  in  deep  slumber,  while  the  redoubtable 
leader  of  the  expedition  had  established  himself  in  a  sitting  pos 
ture  against  the  door,  flanked  upon  either  side  by  a  grim  and 
substantial  man-at-arms.  As  for  the  solitary  window,  it  was  so 
very  small,  besides  being  at  such  a  distance  from  the  ground, 
that  there  was  not  the  slightest  possibility  of  retreat  in  that 
direction. 

"  By  Jupiter,  these  be  stubborn  impediments,"  muttered  the 
Lord  of  Merry-Mount,  to  himself,  as  he  stood  in  a  contemplative 
and  somewhat  discomfited  mood  upon  the  threshold  of  the  outer 
apartment.  "  Though  this  crazy  old  shell  of  a  fort  be  not  so 
strong  as  London  Tower,  yet  it  will  do,  after  all,  to  hold  in 
durance  vile  even  as  eminent  a  state  criminal  as  the  Prince  of 
Passanogessit.  Truly  do  I  seem  like  a  very  reckless  old  rat  who 
has  allowed  himself  to  be  caught  in  a  mouldy  trap,  but  one 
which  will  hold  him  tightly  in  spite  of  his  grimaces.  I  could 
take  it  as  a  particular  and  personal  favor,  now,  if  the  earth 
would  but  open  and  swallow  me  up  at  once." 

There  appearing  to  be  no  immediate  signs  of  any  such  catas 
trophe,  Morton  was  obliged  to  bethink  himself  of  some  other 
means  of  relief.  As  the  storm  was  evidently  coming  on  apace, 
and  as  it  was  likely  that  the  sleepers  would  soon  be  startled  by 
the  crash  of  the  elements,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  relinquish 
his  efforts  at  escape,  for  the  present  at  least,  and  he  accordingly 
was  about  returning  to  the  embraces  of  Corporal  Neegoose,  when 
another  and  still  more  vivid  flash  of  lightning  afforded  him 
another  opportunity  of  examining  the  scene  of  action.  At  the 
instant  when  the  room  was  thus  illuminated,  his  eyes  happened 
to  be  turned  towards  the  ceiling,  in  which,  as  will  be  remem 
bered,  a  considerable  rent  had  been  made  by  the  falling  of  the 
chimney.  He  had  already  rejected  the  idea  of  escape  through 
that  aperture,  which,  although  it  was  larger  than  the  window, 
4* 


42  MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  in  fact  of  sufficient  dimensions  to  admit  of  the  passage  of 
his  body  with  some  little  compression,  was  at  so  hopeless  a 
height  from  the  floor,  as  to  be  altogether  out  of  his  reach.  At 
the  moment  when  the  lightning  illuminated  the  gloom  around 
him,  his  eyes  were  accidentally  fixed  upon  the  ceiling.  Was  he 
deceived  by  a  too  sanguine  imagination,  or  did  he  really  at  that 
instant  behold  a  means  of  unexpected  and  easy  escape?  Either 
a  phantom  of  his  brain  was  deluding  his  senses,  or  else  he  had 
seen  a  rope  dangling  from  the  roof,  and  reaching  nearly  to  the 
floor.  The  flash  was  past,  however,  in  the  same  instant,  and  all 
was  darkness  again. 

"Fair  and  softly,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  stood  pondering 
for  a  moment  in  the  same  position  which  he  had  retained  since 
he  left  his  couch,  "  fair  and  softly ;  yonder  slender  and  waving 
line,  which  the  lightning  hath  revealed  to  me,  looked  very  like  a 
good  honest  hempen  rope,  but  it  may  after  all  be  but  the  counter 
feit  presentiment,  the  phantasma  of  a  rope.  If  it  should  prove 
but  an  airy  picture,  a  fanciful  figment  of  my  heated  brain,  why 
truly  I  fear  'twill  be  of  foul  augury.  A  rope,  the  ghost  of  a 
rope,  faugh,  this  savors  too  strongly  of  a  certain  leafless  tree 
which  bears  human  fruit.  Why,  precisely  at  this  moment, 
should  the  fantastic  vision  of  a  rope's  end  present  itself?  They 
lie  in  their  throats,  these  slanderous  Puritans,  who  seek  again  to 
crush  me  to  the  earth  with  their  accusation  of  foul  crimes  in 
England,  of  which  they  know  me  innocent.  They  would  send 
me  home,  would  they,  again  to  be  badgered  and  worried  by  a 
pack  of  yelling  curs?  I  know  the  mouths  of  the  blood-thirsty 
hell-hounds  are  slavering  at  the  thought  that  they  are  sending 
me  home  to  a  gibbet.  But  they  lie  in  their  throats,  and ." 

As  Morton  muttered  these  exclamations  with  more  earnestness 
and  passion  than  was  usual  with  him,  there  came  another  flash 
of  lightning,  which  again  revealed  to  him  the  appearance  of  the 
mysterious  rope.  Moving  almost  as  quickly  as  the  flash,  and 


MERRY-MOUNT.  43 


dexterously  avoiding,  as  he  dashed  forward,  the  upturned  faces 
and  prostrate  forms  of  his  captors,  his  hand  had  already  securely 
clutched  the  rope  before  the  darkness  had  again  enveloped  him. 
Giving  it  a  desperate  pull  with  all  his  might,  to  ascertain  whether 
it  was  a  real,  substantial  cord,  capable  of  sustaining  his  weight 
and  assisting  him  in  his  escape,  or  only  a  spiritual  noose  to  en 
tangle  him  in  some  new  and  indefinite  embarrassment,  he  soon 
decided  that  it  was  indeed  as  honest  and  material  a  rope's  end 
as  was  ever  twisted.  Without  more  ado,  and  waiting  for  no 
more  illumination  of  any  kind,  he  climbed  rapidly  and  with  un 
common  agility  to  the  roof,  coiled  himself  through  the  narrow 
aperture  like  a  serpent,  and  then  crouched  for  a  moment  till 
another  Hash  should  show  him  the  proper  means  of  descending, 
without  breakino-  limbs  or  neck.  While  lie  was  thus  hesitating, 

O  O  " 

he  heard  a  low,  hoarse  voice  directly  below  him. 

"Hist,  hist,  Master  Morton,"  said  the  voice,  "  knowest 
thou  me  not  ?  " 

"  Faith,"  answered  Morton,  "  he  must  have  good  eyes  that 
knoweth  his  oldest  friend  in  such  a  pitchy  atmosphere  as  this. 
Still,  if  I  mistake  not,  thou  shouldst  be  my  subterranean  phi 
losopher  of  Wessaguscus,  he  who  smelleth  the  thunder  when  it  is 
brewing,  even  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth." 

"  Thou  diddest  me  a  kindness  once,"  said  the  voice. 

"  Exactly  so,"  answered  Morton.  "  I  could  have  sworn  it 
was  thou.  By  Jupiter  Diespiter,  thou  hast  requited  it  a  thousand 
fold,  and  if  I  reward  not  thy  grateful  heart,  if  fortune  do  but 
extricate  me  from  my  present  dilemma,  I  wish  I  might  be  choked 
in  the  very  rope  which  thy  disinterested  benevolence  hath  fur 
nished  me  with.  Verily,  I  have  not  found  such  gratitude,  no, 
not  in  Israel.  But,  how  shall  I  get  down  to  thee,  my  fine  fel 
low  ?" 

''  Feel  for  the  hickory  bough,  Master  Morton,  it  will  bear  thy 
weight." 


44  MERRY-MOUNT. 

So  instructed,  Morton  groped  cautiously  about,  moving  very 
gingerly  along  the  crazy  roof  of  the  edifice,  which,  having 
been  originally  constructed  for  a  fort,  was  unfortunately  of  a 
much  greater  elevation  than  most  of  the  rude  dwellings  of  that 
day.  Feeling  that  a  broken  leg  or  a  dislocated  ankle  would 
hardly  expedite  him  in  his  nocturnal  march,  Morton  conducted 
himself  so  war-Hy,  that  it  was  long  before  he  found,  at  the  ex 
tremity  of  the  building,  a  long  hickory  branch,  extending  almost 
to  the  roof-tree.  Grasping  it,  as  soon  as  it  was  found,  and 
trusting  implicitly  to  the  counsels  of  his  enigmatical  friend, 
he  swung  himself  boldly  out  into  the  darkness.  The  branch 
yielded  gently  with  his  weight,  and  he  felt  himself  descending 
till  he  knew  he  must  be  very  near  the  ground.  When  the  branch 
would  bend  no  more,  he  relinquished  his  hold,  and  dropped 
easily  upon  the  ground. 

As  soon  as  he  found  himself  fairly  out  of  his  prison,  he  cast  a 
rapid  and  anxious  glance  around  him.  The  darkness  was  not 
so  intense  as  it  had  first  appeared,  or  else  there  was  something 
of  the  extraordinary  and  preternatural  light  returning,  which 
had  so  strongly  arrested  his  attention  upon  the  previous  even 
ing.  At  any  rate,  the  outlines  of  the  landscape,  the  dusky 
figure  of  the  dismantled  fort,  the  dim  and  portentous  forms  of 
the  gigantic  trees,  were  visible,  and  he  even  fancied  that  he  saw 
the  faint  and  shadowy  appearance  of  his  mysterious  friend 
creeping  stealthily  out  from  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  hickory. 

"  Hillo,  hillo,  sweet  philosopher,"  said  he  in  a  shrill  whisper, 
"  is  that  thine  own  worthy  self,  which  I  behold  stealing  from  the 
bushes?" 

r"  I  am  glad  you  have  escaped  from  the  mighty  man  of  wrath," 
.  said  the  other,  creeping  close  up  to  him  ;  "  pray  Heaven,  the 
\plague  be  not  let  loose  for  this." 

"Poh,  poh,  a  fico  for  the  plague,"  answered  Morton,  gaily ; 
"  and  now  listen  to  me,  my  good  fellow.  If  I  do  not  warmly 


MERRY-MOUNT.  45 


urge  thee  to  accompany  me  this  night  to  our  poor  palace  of 
Merry-Mount,  't  is  because  I  am  somewhat  out  of  suits  with 
fortune,  myself,  just  now,  and  because  my  patronage  would  be 
like  to  prove  but  a  small  blessing,  seeing  that  although  I  have, 
by  thy  most  opportune  assistance,  eluded  the  grasp  of  my 
pursuers  this  night,  I  may  yet  momentarily  expect  that  the 
attack  will  be  renewed  upon  me,  even  in  my  stronghold.  Thou 
wilt  return  to  thy  subterranean  receptacle,  that  is  to  say,  thou 
wilt  burrow  in  thy  hole  again  this  night,  I  suppose." 

"I  shrill  go  back  to  my  den,"  answered  the  other,  shuddering, 
"  but  alas!  Abamoko  is  fearful,  my  flesh  will  be  torn  with  red- 
hot  pincers.  Did  not  I  tell  you  that  I  smelt  the  thunder 
coming?  " 

"  Well,  no  matter  about  Abamoko  and  his  pincers  just  now," 
replied  Morton  ;  "  I  must  be  off,  and  that  speedily,  but  before  I  go, 
let  me  say  thus  much.  These  matters  will  blow  over  ere  long, 
at  least  I  hope  so,  and  then,  if  thou  wilt  but  accept  my  offer,  I 
promise  thee  a  place  of  honor  and  profit  at  Merry-Mount,  to  be 
followed  up  by  still  more  substantial  favor,  when  certain  projects, 
which  the  wise  ones  wot  of,  shall  have  ripened  into  fulfilment. 
In  the  mean  time,  and  as  an  earnest  of  my  good  intentions,  take 
this,  my  fine  fellow.  We  have  not  yet  discovered  a  gold  mine  at 
Passanogessit,  nor  hast  thou,  with  all  thy  thunder-smelling  pro 
pensities,  discovered  the  philosopher's  stone,  or  I  am  mistaken. 
Therefore,  take  these  few  poor  pieces,  and  come  to  me  when  the 
storm  is  over.  Good-night  my  good  fellow,  I  have  a  longer 
tramp  before  rne  than  thou  hast,  and  the  nights  be  short." 

So  saying,  Morton  slipped  a  few  pieces  of  money,  the  only 
ones  which  he  had  with  him,  into  his  companion's  hand.  The 
philosopher  received  them  mechanically,  and  stood  stock-still 
for  an  instant.  Suddenly,  as  he  jingled  the  pieces,  a  thought 
seemed  to  electrify  him.  He  uttered  a  shrill  laugh,  jumped 
high  into  the  air,  and  clapped  his  hands  in  a  paroxysm  of 


46  ?  MERRY-MOUNT. 


delight,  quite  extraordinary  and  wholly  unwarranted  by  the  cir 
cumstances. 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho,"  he  cried;  "  ho,  ho,  ho,  solid  silver!  crosses  of 
solid  silver.  No  more  digging,  no  more  pinching,  no  more  hot 
irons.  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  a  fig  for  Abamoko  !  " 

With  this  highly  intelligible  ebullition  of  triumph  and  grati 
tude,  which  was  certainly  not  justified  by  the  magnitude  of  the 
present  which  he  received,  the  wild  man  again  sprang  high  in 
the  air,  and  then  dashed  off  at  full  speed  into  the  darkness. 
The  shrill  wizard  laugh  was  wafted  fitfully  back  from  the  gloom 
which  had  suddenly,  as  it  were,  ingulphed  him,  and  was  caught 
up  by  the  echoing  hills  and  reverberated  through  the  mirky  and 
savage  silence,  till  it  seemed  to  Morton  as  if  a  thousand  invisi 
ble  demons  of  the  wilderness  were  mocking  him  in  the  darkness. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  stir  in  the  fort.  Morton,  who  had  only 
advanced  a  few  rods  in  the  opposite  direction  from  that  in  which 
his  mysterious  friend  had  disappeared,  crouched  under  a  tree, 
and  strained  his  eyes  anxiously  through  the  darkness.  There 
was  a  confused  and  noisy  trampling  in  the  house.  Suddenly  a 
light  was  struck.  At  the  same  instant,  a  gun  was  discharged  at 
a  little  distance  from  the  house,  then  another,  and  another. 
Then  through  the  light,  which  streamed  from  the  solitary 
window,  Morton  could  distinctly  perceive  the  forms  of  his  late 
captors  issuing  from  the  house,  and  rushing  madly  with  many 
confused  and  angry  cries,  in  the  direction  of  the  fugitive.  He 
had  evidently  been  heard  and  seen  in  his  moment  of  triumph, 
and  had  as  plainly  been  mistaken  for  Morton  himself.  Shot 
after  shot  was  fired,  but  without  success,  for,  after  the  last 
discharge  had  died  upon  his  ear,  he  still  heard,  above  all  other 
sounds,  the  ringing,  wizard  laugh,  sounding  more  and  more 
faintly  in  the  distance,  and  repeated  by  the  echoes  in  still  more 
ghostlike  and  fantastic  tones  —  Ho,  ho,  ho  ! 


MERRY-MOUNT.  47 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    HURRICANE. 

THIS  accidental  diversion  in  Morton's  favor  was  fortunate. 
The  pursuers,  having  started  off  in  the  darkness  upon  a  wrong 
scent,  would  hardly  discover  their  mistake  in  time  to  molest  him 
during  the  next  few  hours.  He  accordingly  hoped  to  gain  suffi 
cient  time  to  enable  him  to  reach  Merry-Mount  and  fortify  him 
self  there,  before  the  enemy  should  besiege  his  stronghold.  He 
was  at  that  moment  some  eight  or  ten  miles  distant  from  his 
home,  because  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  go  considerably  about, 
to  cross  the  head  of  the  Monatoquit  River,  which  separated  the 
plantation  of  Wessaguscus  from  that  of  Passanogessit.  He  stood 
upon  the  edge  of  the  plain,  and  was  just  starting  upon  his  tramp 
through  the  forest,  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by  the  ex 
traordinary  appearance  of  the  atmosphere. 

We  have  already  noticed  the  singular  illumination  of  the 
heavens  a  little  after  sunset.  This  remarkable  brilliancy  had 
now  returned  at  the  dead  of  night,  and  a  large  portion  of  the 
upper  sky  was  covered  with  yellowish  vapor,  which  emitted  a 
wild  and  sickly  glare,  contrasting  strangely  with  the  pitchy 
darkness  which  had  for  the  last  hour  or  two  enveloped  the 
scene.  The  thunder  still  rolled,  and  the  lightning  flashed  at 
intervals,  but  not  a  drop  of  rain  feH  from  the  clouds,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  parched  and  arid  earth  had  absorbed  so  much 
of  the  fierce  sunshine  which  had  prevailed  for  many  days,  that  it 
repelled  and  dissipated  the  gathering  moisture  in  the  clouds. 


48  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Whether  the  storm  had  spent  its  fury  in  other  directions,  or 
whether  it  was  still  brooding  and  impending  in  the  distance, 
seemed  doubtful ;  but  there  was  something  in  the  calm  and  lurid 
atmosphere,  something  nameless  and  indefinable,  which  inspired 
sensations  of  awe.  It  was  so  death-like  a  calm,  that  not  a  single 
leaf  quivered  upon  the  poplars.  The  crackling  of  a  dried  twig, 
under  Morton's  foot,  sounded  like  the  report  of  a  fire-arm.  He 
still  stood  upon  the  plain  which  we  have  described,  upon  which 
grew  here  and  there  several  gigantic  oaks  and  chestnuts,  and 
had  advanced  nearly  to  the  edge  of  the  forest  which  surrounded 
the  clearing.  He  had  paused,  bewildered  by  the  extraordinary 
light  which  had  so*  suddenly  returned.  He  was  at  first  inclined 
to  believe  that  the  woods  had  taken  fire,  but  there  was  neither 
smoke  nor  any  other  indication  of  such  an  event.  Moreover,  the 
total  disappearance  of  the  phenomenon  for  some  hours,  with  its 
sudden  and  startling  recurrence,  both  forbade  the  idea  of  a  con 
flagration.  Suddenly  the  breathless  silence  was  broken  by  a 
distant,  rushing  sound,  as  if  the  air  were  swept  by  myriads  of 
invisible  wings.  The  volume  of  sound  increased  fearfully  every 
second,  and  now  the  forest  roared  as  if  the  ocean  had  burst  its 
bounds,  and  were  sweeping  over  the  land.  The  unnatural  light 
glared  still  more  fitfully  upon  the  scene,  and  as  the  hardy  Mor 
ton  looked  with  terrified  eyes  around,  he  saw  the  mighty  wood 
fluttering,  writhing  and  tossing  its  myriad  arms  madly  for  a 
moment.  In  that  single  moment,  ten  thousand  trees  were 
whirled  from  their  roots,  and  dashed  to  the  earth,  before  his  eyes. 
There  was  a  short,  wild  crash,  as  these  forest  giants,  which  had 
braved  the  storms  of  centuries,  fell  before  the  furious  blast,  and 
at  the  next  instant,  the  whole  forest  bent  flat  to  the  earth,  like  a 
field  of  waving  grass,  as  the  hurricane  careered  over  it  in  its 
majesty.  The  thunder-cloud,  which  had  so  long  delayed  its 
coming,  now  sailed  up  from  its  resting-place  with  fearful  velocity, 
obscuring  with  its  black  wings  the  preternatural  glare,  and  then 


MERRY-MOUNT.  49 


descended  with  sudden  swoop  upon  the  earth.  The  rain  fell  in 
floods,  the  inky  blackness  of  the  air  was  pierced  incessantly  by 
the  arrowy  lightning.  The  thunder  crashed  above  and  around  in 
one  unbroken  roar.  No  breathless  interval  between  the  flash  and 
the  bolt,  whispered  of  any  slight  removal  of  the  dreadful  artillery 
of  heaven.  The  rattling  thunder  rode  upon  the  lightning's 
wings.  Peal  followed  flash,  and  flash  succeeded  peal,  in  cease 
less  and  fearful  succession. 

At  the  instant  of  the  hurricane,  Morton  had  thrown  himself 
flat  upon  the  earth.  As  he  prostrated  himself,  he  saw  a  solitary 
and  gigantic  chestnut  tree,  which  stood  near  him  upon  the  plain, 
flying  through  the  air  like  a  feather,  its  ponderous  trunk  snapped 
like  a  last  year's  reed.  The  next  instant  a  thunderbolt  shivered 
a  mighty  oak  which  stood  by  itself  within  ten  yards  of  him,  and 
during  the  breathless  moments  which  succeeded,  as  he  lay  with 
his  face  upon  the  ground,  the  rain  pouring  like  a  cataract,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  earth  must  be  powerless  to  absorb  the  thunder 
bolts,  which  fell  incessantly  around  him. 

How  long  he  lay  in  this  condition,  he  knew  not.  The  mo 
ments  seemed  ages,  in  that  fearful  convulsion  of  the  elements; 
but  the  summer  tempest  was  soon  over.  The  hurricane  was  brief 
as  it  had  been  terrific,  and  it  was  soon  extinguished,  as  it  were, 
by  the  floods  of  rain,  which  were  still  falling. 

In  half  an  hour,  the  violence  of  the  storm  had  abated.  The 
lightning  still  glared,  and  the  thunder  rolled  in  the  distance, 
but  the  clouds  were  broken,  and  a  star  or  two  glimmered  faintly 
through  the  rifts  of  the  tempest.  Morton  aroused  himself  at  last 
from  his  recumbent  position,  and  looked  ruefully  around.  The 
storm  had  subsided,  but  the  night  was  dark,  and  his  journey  was 
likely  to  be  obstructed  by  the  multitudes  of  fallen  trees. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  the  elemental  pother  is 
over,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  am  I  neither  blown  into  the  sea, 

VOL.   II.  5 


50  MERRY-MOUNT. 


nor  blasted  by  lightning,  nor  ignobly  drowned  in  a  puddle,  which 
seemed  latterly  most  like  to  be  my  fate. 

'  Jupiter  Diespiter  ! 
Igni  corusco  nubila  dividens  !  ' 

Ah  Flaccus,  Flaccus!  what  boots  it  that  I  strive  to  soothe  my 
ear  with  the  limpid  gurgling  of  thy  verse,  when  the  howling 
hurricane  and  the  wrathful  Shrimp,  both  raging  through  the 
gloomy  forests,  have  filled  my  soul  with  discord  ?  Farewell,  Flac 
cus,  for  the  present,  and  farewell,  ye  bowers  of  Wessaguscus !  " 
With  this  the  undaunted  Morton  set  forth  resolutely  upon  his 
journey.  The  atmosphere  grew  lighter  as  he  advanced,  and 
revealed  to  him  the  ravages  of  the  tempest.  Vast  trunks  of  pros 
trate  trees,  upturned  roots,  and  ponderous,  broken,  interwoven 
branches,  obstructed  his  passage  at  every  step.  Still  on  he  toiled 
manfully  and  patiently.  In  an  hour  and  a  half  he  had  emerged 
from  the  forest,  and  found  himself  engaged  in  passing  a  vast  and 
gloomy  swamp.  The  earth  quaked  beneath  his  feet  as  he  strug 
gled  on,  springing  from  one  tufted  hammock  to  another,  and  in 
danger  every  moment  of  being  swallowed  up  in  the  black,  yield 
ing  ooze,  whose  treacherous  nature  had  been  aggravated  by  the 
deluge  of  rain  which  had  been  falling.  Still,  with  the  adroit 
ness  and  knowledge  of  woodcraft  which  he  possessed,  he  was 
enabled  to  escape  from  this,  as  well  as  from  the  other  dangers 
which  beset  his  course.  He  reached  the  sources  of  the  Mona- 
toquit.  As  he  had  anticipated,  the  slender  stream  was  swollen 
into  a  torrent,  but  he  found,  to  his  gratification,  that  a  large  tree 
had  been  torn  up  by  its  roots  in  the  whirlwind,  and  thrown 
directly  across  the  boiling  flood.  Across  this  natural  bridge  he 
nimbly  made  his  way,  and  again  dashed  into  the  forest.  On  he 
sped,  the  distant  lightning  ever  and  anon  flashing  across  and 
illuminating  his  path,  and  assisting  him  in  threading  his  difficult 
passage  through  the  tangled  and  tempest-riven  woods.  Day  was 


MERRY-MOUNT.  51 


already  faintly  glimmering  in  the  east,  as  the  exhausted  Morton 
at  last  reached  the  outer  barricade  of  Merry-Mount.  The  gate 
was  heavily  and  carefully  barred ;  but  the  faithful  Bootefish, 
attentive  to  his  master's  signal,  although,  of  course,  as  drunk  as 
usual,  hastened  to  admit  him.  Morton  ordered  him  to  make  all 
secure  against  an  impending  attack,  and  to  awaken  him  in  two 
hours.  He  then  plunged  into  the  palace,  threw  himself,  all 
smoking  and  reeking  as  he  was,  upon  a  bear-skin,  and  fell  in 
stantly  into  a  profound  slumber. 


52  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    SIEGE    OF    MERRY-MOUNT. 

THE  only  inhabitants  of  Merry-Mount,  at  that  moment,  were 
Bootefish  and  the  Canary  Bird.  The  other  retainers  and  vaga 
bonds,  who  composed  its  ordinary  population,  had  gone  up  into 
the  interior  of  the  country,  to  trade  with  the  Indians,  and  to 
supply  themselves  with  beaver.  As  for  Henry  Maudsley,  he  had 
some  time  before  become  disgusted  with  the  ribaldry  which  pre 
vailed  at  the  palace,  and  had  abandoned  entirely  the  temporary 
residence  which  he  had  established  there.  Although,  as  we 
shall  have  soon  occasion  to  narrate,  he  still  lingered  in  New 
England;  there  had  been  for  some  time  very  little  sympathy 
or  communication  between  him  and  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount. 

Bootefish  bustled  about,  during  the  brief  slumber  of  his  chief, 
with  a  good  deal  of  importance  and  alacrity,  making  prompt  and 
efficient  provision  for  the  approaching  siege.  There  was  a 
goodly  store  of  matchlocks,  and  plenty  of  ammunition  in  the 
palace,  which  he  now  was  busily  employed  in  arranging,  feebly 
assisted  by  the  Canary  Bird,  who  seemed  that  morning  to  have 
grown  considerably  more  yellow  of  hue,  at  the  same  time  that 
he  had  lost  a  good  deal  of  the  blithe  and  chirping  vivacity  which 
usually  distinguished  him. 

There  were  three  small  apertures  in  the  outward  palisade, 
which  inclosed  the  buildings  at  Merry-Mount,  which  had  been 
intended  for  three  murtherers  or  small  cannon,  which  had  never 
been  mounted,  but  which  Bootefish  knew  to  be  lying  somewhere 
about  the  precincts.  After  considerable  delay,  he  at  last 
was  fortunate  enough  to  find  them,  and,  with  great  exertion, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  53 


succeeded,  with   the  aid  of  Doryfall,  in  placing  them   in  their 
destined  position. 

The  responsibility,  which  had  been  cast  upon  him,  had  for 
the  moment  dissipated  the  drunkenness  of  the  heroic  chief  but 
ler,  and,  as  is  usual  with  all  truly  great  men,  his  genius  seemed 
to  rise  in  proportion  to  the  emergencies  of  his  situation.  He 
never  seemed  more  calm  and  self-collected  than  in  this  hour,  so 
big  with  the  destinies  of  Merry-Mount. 

"  Here  be  twelve  good  snaphances,  Master  Canary  Bird,"  said 
he,  complacently,  addressing  his  lieutenant,  and  not  observing 
the  very  rueful  expression  of  the  little  man's  face,  "  twelve  snap 
hances,  three  murtherers,  and  one  hundred  pounds  of  good  dry 
powder,  besides  a  goodly  heap  of  bullets  of  all  sizes.  By  the 
beard  of  my  father,  methinks  'tis  enough  to  blow  these  bloody 
Puritans  sky  high  ;  confusion  upon  the  damnable  croppies,  Ber- 
naby  !  Here,  pledge  me  the  same." 

"  Confusion  to  the  croppies,"  gasped  Bernaby,  after  swallow 
ing  eagerly  a  mighty  draught  of  the  potent  liquid  offered  to  him, 
with  the  desperate  intention  of  inflaming  his  courage,  which  was 
growing  rapidly  torpid  — "  confusion  to  the  croppies,  Robin 
Bootefish  !  Marry  and  amen." 

"  Right,  Bernaby !  —  but  I  wish  thou  wouldst  get  a  little 
color  in  those  parchment  cheeks  of  thine.  Look  at  me,  man  ! 
Seest  thou  aught  of  the  lily  in  my  countenance?"  cried  the 
worthy  butler,  turning  full  upon  his  companion  a  face  like  the 
rising  sun  of  midsummer. 

"  Truly,  no,  good  Robin,  and  I  could  wish  there  were  twenty 
like  thee  at  Merry-Mount.  Alas  !  we  be,  after  all,  but  three. 
An'  we  had  swashing  Numps  Rednape  now,  or  Dick  Shorthose, 
or  even  Peter  Cakebread,  with  his  damnably  ugly  face,  methinks 
'twould  be  more  comforting.  Besides,  'tis  a  pity  that  we  two 
should  gain  all  the  glory  of  a  triumph  over  Captain  Standish.  Is 
it  not  so,  Master  Butler?  " 
5* 


54  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Fire  and  fagots,  no!  "  roared  Bootefish,  "  we  two,  led  on 
by  the  worthy  Lord  of  Merry-Mount,  are  enough  to  toss  an  army 
of  psalm-singers  into  the  sea.  Humphrey  Rednape  be  damned, 
for  a  brawling,  blustering  bully;  as  for  Peter  Cakebread,  I  had 
rather  than  forty  shillings  that  he  were  here,  that  thine  own 
cowardice  might  be  fairly  scared  out  of  thee,  as  thou  witnessed 
the  scurvy  shifts  which  the  old  baboon  would  be  put  to,  to 
escape  the  dangers  which  might  beset  him.  But  by  the  Lord ! 
while  I  am  talking  thus  the  moments  are  passing.  'T  is  time 
to  call  the  master." 

"  Quite  time,  I  should  say,  worthy  Robin,"  said  the  gay  voice 
of  Morton,  who  suddenly  joined  them,  looking  as  fresh  and  jovial 
as  ever,  having  found  time,  since  arousing  himself  from  his 
brief  slumber  to  exchange  his  soiled  and  way-worn  habiliments, 
and  to  array  himself,  as  he  said,  in  becoming  costume  to  greet 
the  distinguished  visitor  whom  he  was  expecting —  "Quite  time, 
I  assure  thee,  Robin,  but,  luckily,  I  do  not  depend  upon  the 
larum  of  thy  tongue,  to  tell  me  when  to  rise  when  danger  is 
nigh.  I  see  thou  hast  completed  thy  preparations,  for  I  have 
already  been  the  rounds,  and  I  commend  thee  therefor.  I  do 
not  so  highly  commend  thy  present  employment.  'Tis  not  now 
the  '  tempus  dapibus.'  The  sun  is  half  an  hour  high,  and  thou 
must  even  defer  the  rest  of  thy  potations,  till  we  meet  when  all 
is  over  to  pour  out  our  libations  upon  the  altar  of  victory.  For 
the  present,  sobriety  and  decorum  are  most  befitting." 

"  And  prithee,  your  worship,  how  knowest  thou  of  the  ap 
proach  of  Captain  Standish  ?  How  knowest  thou  whether  he  be 
not  even  now  at  New  Plymouth  ?  "  asked  the  butler. 

"  From  the  very  best  authority,  worthy  Master  Robin,"  an 
swered  Morton,  "I  feel  quite  sure  that  Captain  Miles  Standish 
hath  already  left  New  Plymouth,  and  is  even  now  upon  his  way 
to  invade  Thomas  Morton  of  Merry-Mount." 

"  And  prithee,  if  I  might  ask,  for  there  have  been  many  idle 


MERRY-MOUNT.  55 


rumors  floating  about  this  expedition  oflate  —  prithee,  who  hath 
told  thee  this?" 

"  No  less  a  person,  honest  Robin,  than  the  aforesaid  Captain 
Miles  Standish  himself,"  answered  Morton. 

"  Captain  Miles  Standish !  echoed  the  honest  butler,  perfectly 
astounded  at  this  piece  of  intelligence,  which  his  sovereign  so 
flippantly  conveyed  to  him  —  Captain  Miles  Standish!  —  and 
how,  I  pray  thee,  good  Master,  in  the  name  of  Satan,  hast  thou 
happened  in  his  company,  and  how  " 

"  And  how  in  the  name  of  Beelzebub  have  I  happened  out 
of  his  company  when  once  in  it?  thou  wouldst  say,"  interrupted 
Morton.  "  'T  is  a  long  story,  and  must  be  reserved  in  all 
its  details  to  some  more  quiet  opportunity.  Suffice  for  the 
moment  that  the  heroic  Shrimp  circumvented  me  by  stratagem 
at  Wessaguscus." 

"  And  how,  I  prithee,  didst  thou  so  wittily  circumvent  Aim  ?" 
cried  Bootefish. 

"  I  tell  thee  thou  shalt  know  all  in  good  time,  Robin,"  an 
swered  Morton  ;  "  but  let  it  suffice  thee  now,  that  I  have  reached 
my  palace  in  safety.  But  in  faith,  thou  shouldst  have  seen  them 
butting  their  heads  against  each  other  in  the  dark,  like  drunken 
rams,  and  outbellowing  the  thunder  in  their  rage,  when  they 
found  their  prisoner  gone.  As  for  the  heroic  Shrimp,  trust  me, 
he  tore  his  leather  jerkin  for  spite,  and  Corporal  Neegoose,  even 
the  venerable  Abraham,  in  whose  bosom  I  had  slept,  would  have 
torn  the  very  hair  from  his  head  for  vexation,  had  it  not  been 
too  short  to  lay  hold  of.*  But  no  more  of  this.  To  the  look-out, 
Bernaby,  and  tell  me  what  thou  seest." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  outer  gate, 
Bootefish,  at  a  nod  from  his  master,  advanced  to  the  palisades, 
and  reconnoitred  the  supposed  enemy  through  a  narrow  lookout. 

*  See  Note  VI. 


MERRr-MOUNT. 


"  'T  is  a  red-skin,"  said  Bootefish,  returning  to  his  master. 

"  A  red-skin  !  then  by  my  life  't  is  no  enemy,  I'll  be  sworn," 
exclaimed  Morton.  "  To  him  again,  Robin,  and  learn  his 
errand." 

Bootefish  again  advanced  to  the  palisade,  held  a  short  parley 
with  the  savage,  which  was  inaudible  to  the  others,  and  then, 
after  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes,  returned  to  his  sovereign. 

"  'T  is  a  red-skin  from  Wessaguscus,"  said  he,  "  and  one 
who  wishes  well  to  the  Master  of  Merry-Mount.  He  hath  been 
informed  by  a  white  man,  who  sojourneth  in  that  neighborhood, 
that  Captain  Miles  Standish  is  even  now  upon  his  way  to  Merry- 
Mount,  having  set  sail  with  his  followers  in  his  pinnace  after  the 
tempest  of  last  night  had  abated.  Fortunately,  the  wind  hath 
been  wondrous  light,  or  the  mighty  man  would  have  been  here 
before  the  friendly  scout." 

"  Admit  the  scout,  Robin,  he  will  be  one  more  man-at-arms 
for  our  feeble  garrison,"  said  Morton. 

"  Truly  your  worship,"  answered  Bootefish,  "  he  utterly  de 
clined  all  invitation  to  that  effect,  although  it  was  warmly 
extended  to  him  by  your  unworthy  precentor.  He  had  promised 
to  deliver  the  message  sent  by  the  white  man  of  Wessaguscus, 
and  having  accomplished  his  errand,  he  hath  vanished  into  the 
bushes. 

"  My  life  for  it,  this  is  another  friendly  office  on  the  part  of 
my  subterranean  philosopher.  But  thou  knowest  not  my  gem  of 
sages,"  said  Morton,  "  the  solitary  subterranean  of  Wessaguscus, 
who " 

"  Sail,  ho!  "  cried  the  Canary  Bird  from  his  perch. 

"The  devil!"  ejaculated  Morton,  suddenly  interrupting  him 
self  and  mounting  with  wonderful  rapidity  to  the  lookout,  in 
order  to  survey  the  scene  for  himself. 

After  straining  his  eyes  for  a  few  seconds  into  the  clear  blue 
distance,  he  became  convinced  that  the  white  sail  which  was 


MERRY-MOUNT.  57 


first  visible  upon  the  edge  of  the  horizon  could  be  nothing  else 
than  the  pinnace  of  Standish. 

"  Truly,  the  Philistines  be  upon  us,"  cried  he  to  Bootelish, 
"  and  the  tug  of  war  approacheth.  Look  again  to  the  barricades 
and  see  that  the  murtherers  are  in  fit  condition  to  do  their  duty. 
We  shall  have  wanner  work  than  hath  been  often  seen  at  Merry- 
Mount." 

"  'T  is  all  in  readiness,  your  worship,"  hiccupped  the  butler, 
whom  matutinal  potations,  added  to  the  excitement  of  his  pre 
parations,  had  now  rendered  magnificently  drunk.  "  All  is 
in  readiness  to  receive  the  damnable  brawlers  of  New  Plymouth. 
Down  with  the  profane  despisers  of  our  holy  liturgy  !  Down 
with  the  bloody  separatists  !  All  is  ready  for  them,  your  honor." 

"All  right,  Robin,"  said  the  sovereign,  descending  from  his 
watch-tower  and  setting  himself  busily  to  work  to  examine  the 
arms  and  ammunition  of  the  little  fortress;  "  all  very  right,  but 
I  wish  thou  wert  not  always  so  cursedly  drunk  when  thy  sobriety 
would  be  worth  its  weight  in  gold  to  thy  master.  What  a 
piece  of  ill  luck  it  is,  too,  that  my  garrison  should  be  so  feeble 
just  at  this  moment " 

"  We  are  enough,  your  worship,"  roared  Bootefish  ;  "  enough 
and  more  than  enough  to  swallow  every  one  of  the  rascals.  I 
pledge  myself,  I,  Robin  Bootefish,  precentor  and  clerk  of  Merry- 
Mount,  pledge  myself  to  chop  them  all  into  mince-meat,  and 
stuff  sausages  with  them  for  your  worship's  breakfast.  Confu 
sion  to  the  drunken  Puritans,  your  honor,  and " 

"Tush,  Robin,"  interrupted  Morton.  "I  like  thy  spirit,  but 
I  cannot  commend  this  braggadocio  of  thine.  And,  by  the  way, 
what  hath  become  of  your  other  man-at-arms,  the  stalwart  Canary 
Bird  ?  Go  seek  him  out,  Robin,  for  't  is  time  to  muster  our  gar 
rison." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  hiccupped  the  butler.  "  ;T  is  proper 
that  the  garrison  should  be  mustered.  But  your  worship  should 


58  MERRY-MOUNT. 


know  that  this  Canary  Bird  is  a  drunken  knave,  and  what  is 
more,  a  scurvy  coward.  I  will  look  for  him,  your  worship,  but 
I  pledge  myself  that  I  shall  find  him  creeping  into  a  rat-hole,  or 
the  bung  of  an  empty  ale-butt,  to  escape  the " 

"  So  saying,  the  valiant  butler  staggered  off,  and  after  an 
absence  of  a  few  minutes,  returned,  leading  along,  by  the  ear, 
the  recreant  Doryfall,  who,  as  he  had  rightly  conjectured,  had 
been  found  stowed  away  in  the  cellar  among  the  empty  casks. 

"  Here  be  the  Canary  Bird,  your  worship,"  cried  Bootefish, 
"  marvellously  ill  of  the  pip  I  assure  ye,  and  ready  to  moult  all 
his  feathers,  white  as  well  as  yellow.  Here,  my  good  fellow," 
he  continued,  extending  his  flask  to  the  trembling  Canary  Bird, 
"  take  another  drop.  Why,  thou  lily-livered,  ague-shaking 
mountebank,  what  ails  thee,  then,  that  thou  swallowest  not  thy 
liquor?" 

"  3T  is  nothing,"  murmured  the  unlucky  Canary  Bird,  in  a 
feeble  voice,  and  utterly  unable  to  swallow  the  proffered  libation. 
"I  have  a  slight  touch  of  the  lockjaw.  My  aunt  was  a  martyr 
to  it." 

"  Your  worship  sees,"  said  Bootefish,  turning  away  from  the 
cowardly  Canary  Bird  with  an  expression  of  profound  disgust 
upon  his  countenance,  "  your  worship  sees  that  there  is  no  de 
pendence  to  be  placed  upon  this  creature.  Put  not  your  trust 
in  Canary  Birds,  saith  the  wise  man.  No  matter,  your  worship, 
we  two  are  enough  to  carbanado  all  the  Puritans  of  Plymouth. 
I  pledge  myself,  your  worship " 

"  Enough  of  thy  pledges,  honest  Robin,"  interrupted  Mor 
ton,  "and  do  me  the  kindness  to  ascend  once  more  to  the  look 
out,  for  I  believe  that  our  unfortunate  friend  here  might  as  well 
return  to  the  cellarage  ;  he  is  not  even  fit  to  serve  as  a  warder. 
Go  to  the  lookout,  and  that  instantly.  Death  and  damnation  !  " 
he  continued,  as  the  drunken  butler,  after  pompously  staggering 
•  towards  the  ladder  which  led  to  the  lookout,  fairly  rolled  over 


MERRY-MOUNT.  59 


upon  the  ground,  as  he  attempted  to  ascend.  "  By  Jupiter 
Diespiter !  here  is  my  garrison  reduced  to  myself.  Why, 
Bootefish,  thou  drunken  lobster,  art  thou  really  deserting  me  in 
my  utmost  need  ?  Why,  thou  miserable,  pot  valiant,  human 
hogshead,  thou " 

"  Fair  and  softly,  fair  and  softly,"  hiccupped  the  butler,  as  he 
slowly  assumed  a  sitting  posture  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder.  "  Fair 
and  softly,  your  worship.  Good  words  are  due  to  the  future 
bishop  of  Massachusetts.  Ceremony  is  a  proper  thing,  even 
from  a  sovereign  to  his  subjects.  I  was  born  to  be  an  usher,  a 
genteel  usher.  Your  worship  shall  see  the  genteel  ceremony 
with  which  I  will  receive  the  bloody-minded  Puritans.  Down 
with  the  accursed  Brownists  !  Cherish  piety  —  piety  and  cere 
mony.  A  curse  upon  all  Canary  Birds,  and  a  fig  for  Miles 
Standish."  With  these  disjointed  ejaculations,  the  heroic  Boote- 
fish  fell  into  a  profound  lethargy. 

Morton,  stepping  Hghly  over  his  prostrate  carcase,  now  hastily 
ascended  his  watch-tower.  As  he  readied  the  summit,  he  saw 
that  the  pinnace  of  Miles  Standish  had  already  cast  anchor 
under  the  cliff,  and  that  the  party  who  had  captured  him  the 
night  before  were  disembarking  upon  the  beach. 

"  By  the  Lord,"  cried  he  to  Dory  fall,  who  still  stood  the 
image  of  mute  dismay  near  the  base  of  the  tower  —  "  by  the 
Lord,  the  invincible  armada  hath  arrived  at  last.  By  Jupiter,  the 
odds  are  something  heavy,  nine  to  one  as  I  count  them,  for  of  my 
garrison  of  two,  one  is  drunk  with  fear  and  the  other  with  liquor. 
O,  thou  heroic  and  most  truculent  of  Puritan  captains,  am  I  to 
fall  into  thy  hands  after  all?  O,  Miles,  Miles  !  thou  lengthy 
brevity,  thou  gigantic  pigmy,  thou  confounder  of  dimensions! 
O,  thou,  who  art  Miles  in  name,  leagues  in  valor,  and  but  a  few 
paltry  inches  in  stature,  why  the  plague  could  not  the  plague 
have  swallowed  thee  in  England,  when  thou  didst  so  manfully 
brave  its  fury,  and  why,  O  why  did  it  spare  thee  to  plague  me 
here  with  thy  fury,  in  New  England  1 " 


60  MERRY-MOUNT. 


As  Morton  thus  soliloquized,  the  invading  party  had  all  disem 
barked  upon  the  beach,  where  they  remained  stationary,  and 
seemed  to  be  listening  to  the  orders  of  their  commander. 

11  There  they  are,  every  one  of  them.  I  can  see  them  all  — 
the  captain,  the  centurion,  the  corporal,  Standish,  Abraham 
Neegoose,  and  all  the  rest  of  them.  *  Antimachumque,  Heli- 
mumque,  Securiferumque,  Pyracmon.'  O,  Miles  !  why  could  not 
the  ferocious  Pecksuot  have  sent  an  arrow  through  thy  jerkin  1 
So  should  I  have  been  saved  the  trouble,  and  the  whole  of  New 
England  the  expense,  of  this  tremendous  invasion." 

Morton's  soliloquy  was  now  cut  short.  The  party  upon  the 
beach  began  to  move,  and  the  sovereign  of  Merry-Mount  hastily 
descended  from  his  elevated  position,  to  prepare  for  their  recep 
tion.  He  was  now,  unfortunately,  in  solitary  grandeur,  for  the 
Canary  Bird  had  taken  advantage  of  his  master's  temporary 
abstraction  to  again  effect  his  escape  into  some  unknown  hiding- 
place,  and  the  butler  being  in  a  hopelessly  lethargic  condition, 
there  was  none  left  but  himself  to  defend  his  castle. 

Morton  now  took  one  more  hasty  survey  of  his  artillery  and 
ammunition,  and  then  arming  himself  with  a  snaphance,  he 
stationed  himself  at  one  of  the  little  apertures  which  had  been 
left  in  the  palisade,  and  reconnoitred  the  enemy  as  they 
advanced. 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  whole  party,  with  their  commander  at 
their  head,  had  arrived  within  fifty  yards  of  the  palisade. 

Morton  now  hesitated  as  to  the  course  which  he  was  to 
pursue.  If  he  had  not  been  entirely  alone,  if  only  two  or  three 
faithful  followers  had  been  at  his  side,  it  would  have  been 
perfectly  easy  for  him  to  have  defended  his  castle  against  the 
present  invasion.  It  was  now,  however,  evident  that  the 
palisade  was  to  be  attacked  upon  two  or  three  points  at  once, 
for  he  already  observed  that  three  of  the  party  were  detailed  in 
an  opposite  direction.  It  would  have  been  easy  for  him,  as  he 


MERRY-MOUNT.  61 


stood  there  at  the  embrasure,  to  have  taken  deliberate  aim  at 
Standish,  and  have  picked  him  off  at  the  head  of  his  company. 
It  would  have  been  easy  for  him  to  have  fired  one  raking  shot 
with  the  murtherer,  which  would  have  inflicted  serious  damage, 
although  the  nature  of  the  ground,  and  the  clumsiness  of  his 
field-pieces,  rendered  the  result  of  such  a  cannonade  very 
doubtful.  At  all  events,  it  was  not  likely  that  he  could  destroy 
the  whole  of  his  assailants  with  his  single  arm,  nor  defend  his 
place  against  a  desperate  attack  for  any  considerable  length  of 
time.  Had  the  Canary  Bird  but  been  a  little  less  chicken- 
hearted,  or  the  butler  a  little  more  abstemious,  it  would  have 
been  possible  for  him,  perhaps,  to  have  beaten  off  his  assailants, 
but  alone  as  he  was,  the  attempt  seemed  almost  hopeless.  His 
palisades  were  weak  and  easily  broken  through,  and  it  was 
entirely  out  of  his  power  to  defend  them  at  more  than  one  point 
at  a  time.  Moreover,  if  his  adversaries  should  become  inflamed 
by  obstinate  resistance  upon  his  part,  the  terms  of  his  final 
surrender,  —  and  to  that  under  the  circumstances  he  felt  that  he 
must  come  at  last,  —  would  be  more  disadvantageous,  particularly 
if  any  of  them  should  suffer  loss  of  life  or  limb  in  the  attack, 
than  perhaps  might  now  be  secured  by  diplomacy. 

While  Morton  was  thus  holding  council  with  himself,  the 
valiant  Standish  had  advanced  still  nearer  to  the  palisade.  At 
that  moment  the  life  of  the  Plymouth  hero  hung  by  a  hair. 
Morton  covered  him  deliberately  with  his  piece,  the  barrel  of 
which  he  thrust  through  the  embrasure,  and  for  an  instant's 
space,  he  was  inclined  to  yield  to  the  promptings  of  the  busy 
devil  within  him.  After  all,  it  would  have  been  but  an 
act  of  self-defence.  The  invaders  of  his  domicile  were  attack 
ing  him  without  the  slightest  shadow  of  legitimate  authority 
derived  from  any  source  under  heavens.  The  principles  of 
natural  law,  all  authorized  him  to  defend  himself  and  his  castle 
by  every  means  in  his  power.  At  the  same  time  there  was 

VOL.  n.  6 


62  MERRY-MOUNT. 


something  in  the  manly  bearing  of  Standish,  that  forcibly 
appealed  to  the  generous  part  of  Morton's  nature.  Small  was 
the  love  which  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  bore  to  the  champion 
of  the  Puritans,  and  still  his  soul  revolted  at  the  thought  of 
slaying  the  gallant  soldier  like  a  dog  in  a  ditch.  And  yet  he 
had  himself,  within  the  last  fifteen  hours,  suffered  insult, 
reproach,  ignominy,  at  that  gallant  soldier's  hands.  He  had 
been  treated  like  a  base  cur,  bound,  handcuffed,  outraged, 
degraded,  and  all  this  he  felt  without  cause,  and  without  right, 
except  the  right  of  brutal  violence.  The  man  who  had  most 
vilified,  persecuted,  and  insulted  him,  by  whom  he  had  been 
entrapped  in  the  forest,  caged',  tormented,  and,  after  his  escape, 
hunted  down  to  his  lair  as  if  he  had  been  a  wolf,  that  man  stood 
now  within  a  few  yards  of  the  muzzle  of  his  gun.  A  motion  of 
liis  finger,  and  the  vanquisher  of  Wittewamutt,  the  heroic 
champion  of  the  Puritans,  the  terror  of  all  the  savage  tenants  of 
New  England,  was  sent  to  his  long  account. 

All  these  conflicting  thoughts  rushed  rapidly  through  Morton's 
brain.  Generosity  united  with  prudence  finally  triumphed  over 
the  desire  of  vengeance.  His  character  was  more  politic  than 
desperate;  and  as  he  reflected  how  infinitely  complicated  and 
disastrous  would  be  his  relations  with  the  settlers,  should  his 
hands  be  stained  with  the  blood  of  Standish,  even  if,  as  was 
most  unlikely,  his  grim  companions  in  arms  should  leave  his 
death  unrevenged  a  single  hour,  he  relinquished  his  first  and 
deadly  purpose. 

During  the  infinitely  small  fragment  of  time,  during  which 
his  life  had  been  thus  rapidly  but  minutely  weighed  in  the 
balance  of  Morton's  mind,  Miles  Standish  had  advanced  very 
near  to  the  palisade,  closely  followed  by  Corporal  Neegoose  and 
four  of  the  men-at-arms. 

11  Thomas  Morton,"  he  cried  at  last,  "  by  authority  of  powers 
committed  to  me  by  all  the  planters  of  New  England  combined, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  63 


I  summon   thec  presently  to  surrender  thyself,  without   further 
delay,  into  my  hands." 

"  Faith,"  answered  Morton  from  the  embrasure,  "  the  cour 
tesy  I  have  so  recently  experienced  at  thy  hands,  when  my  evil 
genius  led  me  unwittingly  into  thy  clutches,  hath  inspired  me 
with  .small  relish  for  a  further  continuance  of  thy  acquaintance. 
Retire,  Captain  Standish,  or  I  shall  most  assuredly  do  thee  to 
death  where  thou  standest.  'Verbum  sapienti*  —  thou  knowest 
the  proverb.  Retire,  or  I  will  knock  thee  down  like  a  moose." 

"  Fire,  if  thou  darest,"  replied  blandish,  without  blenching, 
although  the  muzzle  of  Morton's  matchlock  still  pointed  full  at 
his  breast;  "  fire,  if  thou  darest,  my  death  will  avail  thee  nothing. 
If  thou  wouldst  have  another  murder  upon  thy  guilty  hands,  do 
as  thou  threatenest." 

"}T  is  a  calumnious  lie,"  shouted  Morton,  stung  by  this  in 
sult  into  renewed  passion.  "  I  marvel  much,  that  a  gentleman 
and  soldier,  like  thyself,  Captain  Standish,  can  stoop  so  low  as 
not  only  to  wear  the  livery  and  obey  the  commands,  but  even  to 
repeat  the  falsehoods  of  these  base-born  curs.  But  I  will  not  be 
fretted  out  of  my  reason,  and  moreover " 

"  Master  Morton,"  interrupted  Standish,  in  a  peremptory 
tone,  "  this  parley  hath  lasted  till  I  am  weary.  In  one  word, 
wilt  thou  surrender  at  discretion,  or  shall  I  use  violence? 
Choose,  and  that  instantly,  for  I  swear  to  thee  by  the  God  of 
Jacob,  that  my  orders  shall  be  executed  without  a  moment's 
further  delay." 

Morton  was  a  prudent  and  politic  man.  During  the  interval 
which  had  elapsed  since  the  first  arrival  of  the  pinnace,  sufficient 
opportunity  had  been  afforded  him  for  reflection  upon  his  posi 
tion.  Even  when  giving  way  to  an  explosion  of  passion,  his 
reason  was  by  no  means  clouded,  but  he  had  the  wit  to  preserve 
a  method,  even  in  his  rage.  He  had  been,  throughout  the  whole 
interview  with  Standish,  collected,  if  not  cool.  He  had  re- 


64  MERRY-MOUNT. 


fleeted  upon  all  the  probable  consequences  of  his  action,  even 
while  his  matchlock  pointed  at  the  heart  of  Standish;  he  had 
reflected,  during  the  brief  parley,  upon  his  future  prospects,  even 
while  apparently  yielding  to  a  tempest  of  passion,  and  he  had  at 
last  arrived  at  the  conclusion,  that  all  the  golden  visions  which 
had  solaced  his  exile,  and  to  convert  which  into  reality  had  been 
the  cherished  object  of  years,  must  inevitably  be  dispelled,  did 
he  not  extricate  himself  skilfully  from  the  dilemma  in  which  he 
found  himself.  He  was  sure,  at  all  events,  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  his  enemies,  for  to  resist  single-handed  the  present  invasion, 
was  but  fool-hardy.  It  was  only  the  part  of  a  desperate  man  to 
sell  his  life  dearly,  and  to  defend  himself  to  the  last.  His  situa 
tion  was  not  yet  desperate,  but  with  the  blood  of  Standish,  or 
that  of  any  of  his  followers,  upon  his  hands,  it  would  be  utterly 
hopeless.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  surrendered  himself  into  the 
hands  of  Standish,  the  worst  result  which  he  anticipated  was  a 
voyage  to  England.  Under  the  present  complication  of  circum 
stances,  he  feit  that  more  was  to  be  gained  than  lost  by  such  an 
event.  There  was  much  in  the  recent  history  of  his  affairs  that 
might  be  handled  by  him  with  advantage,  to  circumvent  the 
projects  of  the  new  planters  of  New  England.  An  immediate 
interview  with  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges  would  be  of  service  at 
the  present  juncture,  in  forwarding  the  enterprise  of  Sir  Chris 
topher  Gardiner,  upon  the  success  of  which  depended  the  fulfil 
ment  of  his  own  schemes. 

Revolving  these  matters  rapidly  in  his  mind,  and  giving  one 
despairing  glance  at  the  motionless  carcase  of  the  chief  butler, 
he  at  last  resolved  to  surrender.  Within  less  than  one  minute 
after  Standish  had  uttered  his  last  peremptory  demand,  Morton 
called  to  him,  through  the  embrasure,  in  a  voice  which  had 
resumed  all  its  native  gaiety,  — 

"  As  the  result  of  the  present  parley,  the  garrison  of  this 
fortress  is  disposed  to  capitulate.  The  general  of  the  besieging 
forces  will  please  to  propose  his  terms." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  (J5 


"Master  Morton,"  replied  Captain  Standish,  "I  have  neither 
time  nor  taste  for  buffoonery.  Thou  wilt  forthwith  unbar  thy 
gate,  or  I  shall  give  my  signal  at  once  for  an  attack." 

"  The  garrison,"  continued  Morton,  with  much  magnificence 
of  manner,  "  the  garrison,  to  save  the  effusion  of  blood,  and  to 
preserve  many  valuable  lives,  doth  consent  to  capitulate;  but  it 
demands  to  go  forth  with  all  the  honors  of  war." 

"  With  the  honors  of  a  halter,"  roared  the  choleric  Standish, 
nettled  by  Morton's  effrontery.  "  Unbar  the  gates  instantly,  or 
I  swear  to  thee  by " 

"Swear  not  at  all,  most  waspish  of  warriors,"  interrupted 
Morton,  "  for  lo,  am  I  not  already  obeying  the  behests  of  the  cruel 
conqueror?  Surely,  it  is  legitimate  for  the  commander  of  the 
garrison,  in  the  present  state  of  the  siege,  to  whisper  a  word  or 
two  touching  the  terms  of  his  surrender.  I  require,  therefore,  a 
pledge  from  the  besieging  general,  that  no  violence  shall  be 
offered  to  me,  or  to  any  of  my  garrison  ;  and  that,  furthermore, 
my  flag  shall  be  saluted  by  my  garrison,  after  it  is  struck.  Do 
you  assent  to  these  conditions?" 

"  Corporal  Neegoose,"  shouted  Standish,  in  a  tempest  of  rage, 
"I  delay  no  longer."  At  the  word  of  command,  the  corporal 
and  the  men-at-arms  rushed  after  their  commander,  in  a  furious 
assault  upon  the  gate ;  while,  at  the  same  instant,  at  a  concerted 
signal,  the  party  upon  the  opposite  side  were  already  about  to 
attempt  a  breach  in  the  palisade  with  their  partisans.  At  the 
instant  of  the  attack,  Morton  quietly  and  slowly  unbarred  the 
portal,  saying,  as  he  did  so,  — 

"  Fairly  and  softly,  my  masters,  fairly  and  softly.  Silence 
giveth  consent,  saith  the  proverb,  and  thus  do  I  understand  my 
terms  to  be  allowed.  Be  not  over  hasty,  most  valiant  gene 
ral,  nor  thou,  most  evangelical  of  corporals;  but  enter  calmly, 
and  take  possession  of  this  virgin  fortress." 

The  gate  swung  open  as  he  concluded,  and  displayed  Morton, 


MERRY-I»IOUNT. 


standing  quite  alone  at  the  entrance  to  his  domain,  with  his 
matchlock  in  his  hand.  The  party,  headed  by  Standish,  rushed 
furiously  into  the  inclosure,  and,  suspecting  some  ambush,  as 
they  found  Morton,  whom  they  supposed  surrounded  by  twenty 
followers,  in  such  perfect  solitude,  Corporal  Neegoose  and  two 
others  made  a  sudden  onset  upon  him,  threw  him  to  the  ground, 
disarmed  and  bound  him,  and  were  upon  the  point  of  hand 
cuffing  and  gagging  him,  when  Standish  interposed,  and  ordered 
them  to  desist. 

"  Master  Morton,"  said  he,  "  you  are  my  prisoner;  but  from 
your  recent  behavior,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  you  satisfied  that 
it  is  useless  to  resist.  I  am,  therefore,  disposed  to  liberate  you 
from  actual  bondage,  assuring  you,  however,  that  any  attempt  at 
rescue,  on  the  part  of  your  followers,  will  be  punished  by  in 
stant  death." 

"  Captain  Standish,"  replied  Morton,  after  he  had  shaken 
himself  free,  "  'twould  have  been  perchance  more  becoming  to 
have  treated  me  less  like  a  felon,  and  more  like  a  gentleman, 
after  I  had  thus  surrendered  at  discretion.  Yet  I  do  hereby 
volunteer  my  parole,  assuring  thee  that  it  is  neither  my  inten 
tion  nor  inclination  to  attempt  my  escape.  I  shall  follow  thee 
to  Plymouth  as  patiently  as  the  wild  ass's  colt  followeth  its  dam. 
Touching  the  mattter  of  a  rescue  upon  the  part  of  my  followers, 
thou  wilt  believe  that  to  be  most  unlikely,  seeing  that  with  the 
exception  of  one  chicken-hearted  monkey,  whom  thou  wilt  find, 
either  dead  or  alive  in  some  cranny  in  the  cellarage,  yonder 
motionless  lump  of  humanity  constituteth  my  whole  garrison." 

As  he  concluded,  Morton  pointed  to  the  prostrate  Bootefish, 
whom  several  of  the  followers  of  Standish  had  just  discovered, 
tranquilly  enjoying  his  slumbers  at  the  foot  of  the  lookout,  and 
whom  they  now  were  dragging  forward  for  the  inspection  of 
their  commander. 

As  he  listened  to  the  last  observation  of  Morton,  and  contem- 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


plated  the  lethargic  form  of  Bootefish,  Standish  looked  at  his 
corporal  with  a  somewhat  disconcerted  expression  of  coun 
tenance.  To  the  hero  of  New  Plymouth,  his  present  achieve 
ment  seemed  not  likely  to  bring  fresh  laurels.  Giving  one 
contemptuous  glance  at  the  butler,  the  testy  Standish  turned  his 
back  upon  Morton,  and  striding  towards  the  farther  extremity 
of  the  inclosure,  seated  himself  upon  a  log,  struck  a  light,  and 
began  to  solace  himself  with  a  pipe  of  tobacco.  In  the  mean 
time,  Morton,  throwing  himself  into  a  gracefully  recumbent 
attitude  upon  the  turf,  and  looking  benignantly  around  upon  his 
captors,  observed,  — 

"  Make  yourselves  perfectly  at  home  at  this  poor  palace  of 
ours,  my  masters.  All  is  yours,  I  fear  me,  by  the  rights  of  war. 
I  cannot  flatter  ye  that  ye  have  broken  down  my  spirit  yet, 
although  ye  have  conquered  my  territory,  — 

'  Et  cuncta  terrarum  subacta 


Praetor  atrocem  animum  Catonis.' 

Hast  ever  solaced  thyself,  Master  Neegoose,  with   the  crystal 
numbers  of  the  Venusian  bard  ?" 


68  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE    DOUBLE    LABYRINTH. 

SEVERAL  weeks  had  elapsed -since  the  matters  just  related, 
when  one  afternoon  Esther  Ludlow  was  wandering  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  her  residenceT  Summer  had  long  been  scorching 
the  wilderness.  After  a  day  of  breathless  heat  and  cloudless 
sunshine,  she  had  come  forth  from  her  humble  cottage  as  the 
afternoon  was  closing,  to  watch  for  the  coming  of  the  evening 
wind.  But  the  leaves  stirred  not  yet,  but  hung  shrivelled  and 
motionless  in  the  brazen  sky.  The  oppressiveness  of  the  atmos 
phere  was  so  excessive,  that  even  the  sounds  of  nature  seemed 
languid  and  feeble.  The  melancholy  cat-bird  in  the  deepest 
thicket  scarce  could  utter  his  musical  complaint ;  the  squirrel  sat 
motionless  upon  his  tree ;  the  snake  lay  basking  upon  the  rock. 
All  was  silent,  save  the  ceaseless  hum  of  the  locusts,  whose 
shrill  and  all-pervading  monotone,  struck  upon  the  ear  like 
the  audible  voice  of  heat.  The  great  heart  of  nature  seemed 
to  beat  feebly  in  her  bosom.  Esther  lingered  in  the  cloistered 
depths  of  the  forest,  now  gliding  with  the  noiseless  movements 
of  a  nun,  through  the  long,  green  naves,  now  gazing  upwards 
at  the  vast  and  solemn  arches ;  now  losing  herself  among  the 
clustering  and  interlacing  ranks  of  gigantic  and  aspiring  shafts, 
or  watching,  as  she  sat  upon  some  prostrate  column,  the  play 
of  the  chequered  sunbeams,  as  they  streamed  in  a  horizontal 
flood  through  the  branched  and  foliaged  tracery  of  the  grove. 

Long  and  deeply  she  mused.  At  times  she  doubted  whether, 
in  her  conduct  during  the  last  few  months,  she  might  not  have 
committed  some  irretrievable  error,  but  no  tongue  had  whispered 


MERRY-MOUNT.  (J9 


Maudsley's  name,  since  the  memorable  interview  in  which  he 
had  bidden  her  farewell  forever;  and  whether  he  still  lingered 
in  New  England,  or  whether  he  had  already  departed  to  more 
genial  scenes,  she  could  not  tell.  At  times,  something  whisper 
ed  in  her  heart,  that  her  bearing  towards  him  had  been  too 
harsh,  and  that  she  had  not  dwelt  kindly  enough  upon  the  con 
stancy  of  his  love.  But  she  reflected  that  constancy  and  devotion 
could  not  atone  for  suspicion  and  insult.  She  became  every  day 
strengthened  in  the  sad  conviction,  that  fate  had  allowed  two 
hearts  for  a  brief  period,  and  almost  in  their  own  despite,  to 
cleave  and  grow  to  each  other,  only  to  be  rudely  and  forever 
torn  asunder,  and  to  shed  their  life-blood  in  the  separation.  She 
felt  convinced  that  there  was  an  utter  want  of  sympathy  between 
their  natures,  and  that  a  reconciliation  was  hopeless.  What  the 
mystery  of  the  chain  betokened  she  could  not  imagine ;  the  idea 
of  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  as  a  lover  had  never  presented  itself 
to  her  mind.  She  had  not  the  slightest  idea  in  what  way 
Maudsley  had  possessed  himself  of  the  chain,  and  an  indefinable 
feeling  had  restrained  her,  at  the  only  interview  which  had  since 
taken  place  between  herself  and  the  knight,  and  which  had 
passed  in  the  presence  of  her  brother,  from  alluding  to  the  cir 
cumstance.  Maudsley's  language  had  been  so  incoherent  and 
incomprehensible,  that  at  times  she  feared  that  his  brain  had 
been  unsettled,  at  others  she  was  almost  ready  to  believe  in  the 
reality  of  the  preternatural  influence  to  which  he  had  alluded  in 
such  a  passionate  manner,  and  to  imagine  that  it  was  even 
extending  itself  over  her  own  fate.  She  struggled  long  and 
deeply  with  these  emotions,  as  she  wandered  in  the  silent  forest. 
At  times  she  doubted  whether  the  sacrifice  which  she  had  made 
to  her  brother,  a  sacrifice  of  a  whole  life,  was  indeed  a  just  and 
worthy  one.  Even  if  it  were  right  to  consecrate  her  own  exist 
ence  to  his,  was  it  just  to  trifle  with  the  welfare  of  another?  and 
if,  without  any  thought  but  Maudsley's  happiness,  and  laying 


70  MERRY-MOUNT. 


aside  all  useless,  although  womanly  reserve,  she  had  approached 
her  lover  boldly,  determined  to  pluck  out  the  heart  of  the  whole 
mystery  which  enveloped  them,  would  it  not  have  been  better 
for  all  ? 

Exhausted  and  harassed  by  her  unprofitable  musings,  she 
violently  aroused  herself  with  the  intention  of  returning  to  her 
home.  To  her  surprise,  she  found,  after  making  one  or  two 
turns,  and  becoming  at  each  turn  more  bewildered,  that  she  had 
unconsciously  wandered  farther  than  she  intended ;  and  that  she 
had,  for  the  first  time  for  many  months,  entirely  lost  her  way. 
As  the  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  she  became,  in  her  anxiety 
to  hurry  to  the  right  track  again,  still  more  and  more  embar 
rassed.  It  had  been  an  unusual  thing  for  her  to  venture  unat 
tended  to  any  considerable  distance  in  the  wilderness ;  but  the 
day  had  been  so  sultry,  the  freshness  of  the  forest  so  inviting, 
and  her  reverie  so  deep,  that  she  had  unconsciously  wandered 
too  far.  It  was  now  in  vain  for  her  to  attempt  to  recognise  any 
familiar  feature  in  the  landscape.  Although  there  was  still  a 
sufficiency  of  daylight  left,  as  the  summer's  sun  had  but  just 
descended,  yet  it  would  have  required  a  more  practised  eye  than 
hers  to  have  read  the  language  of  that  sylvan  scene.  To  one 
educated  as  she  had  been  in  the  quiet,  cultivated  gardens  of 
England,  the  maze  of  the  forest  was  an  inscrutable  mystery.  It 
was  no  longer  possible  for  her  to  select  any  single  and  well- 
remembered  landmark.  Still  her  self-possession  was  not  easily 
disturbed,  and  after  wandering  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  she 
arrived  at  a  small  natural  opening,  where  she  felt  certain  that 
she  had  never  found  herself  before.  A  high  ledge  of  granite 
rose  from  the  edge  of  this  valley,  swelling  upwards  through 
the  forest  in  a  westerly  direction.  Esther  began  to  ascend  this 
cliff  to  obtain,  if  possible,  a  distant  view  which  might  enable  her 
to  form  some  conjecture  as  to  the  path  which  she  was  to  follow. 
With  much  effort  she  arrived  upon,  the  broad  flat  summit  of  the 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


granite  mass,  where  she  sank  for  a  moment  exhausted.  As 
she  lay  there  upon  that  isolated  promontory,  she  seemed  like  a 
shipwrecked  victim  cast  upon  some  rocky  and  desolate  isle. 
From  east  to  west,  from  north  to  south,  the  unfathomable  forest 
flowed  round  her,  like  a  sea.  The  myriad  leaves,  already  agi 
tated  by  the  evening  wind  which  had  so  long  delayed  its  coining, 
now  murmured  like  the  awakening  surge. 

Recovering  from  her  exhaustion,  she  arose  and  looked 
anxiously  around.  Alas  !  she  could  not  discover  the  slightest 
indication  of  any  thing  familiar  to  guide  her  footsteps.  In 
whatever  direction  she  strained  her  eyes,  still  rose  and  rolled 
before  her  sight  that  green  and  boundless  ocean. 

She  took  a  silver  whistle  which  hung  at  her  waist,  and  which 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  use  as  a  signal  to  her  brother  and 
his  servants,  and  blew  a  shrill  blast  upon  it,  without  the  slightest 
expectation  that  its  tremulous  and  slender  note  could  penetrate 
to  her  own  abode.  The  faint  vibration  soon  died  upon  the  air, 
but  just  awakening  a  slight  and  feeble  echo  which  floated  back 
to  her  ear  like  the  voice  of  some  gentle  wood-spirit.  Again  and 
again  she  mechanically  sounded  the  slender  notes,  and  felt  a 
vague  terror  stealing  over  her  as  she  listened  to  the  gentle  but 
unearthly  tones,  by  which  it  seemed  to  be  mocked  and  mim 
icked  in  the  distance.  Suddenly,  as  she  blew  her  final  and 
despairing  blast,  and  was  about  descending  from  her  elevated 
position,  her  ear  was  startled  by  another  and  most  mysterious 
sound.  Just  as  the  delicate  echo  which  had  responded  to  her 
own  last  signal,  had  melted  into  air,  the  tone  seemed  suddenly 
caught  up  and  repeated  ;  gently  at  first,  and  then  more  loudly, 
till  she  was  surprised  to  hear,  as  it  were,  an  answering  signal  to 
her  own.  A  hope  sprang  up  in  her  bosom  as  she  listened  to 
this  distant  note,  and  yet  she  was  still  more  perplexed  and  be 
wildered,  because  it  was  not  the  signal  that  had  been  concerted 
between  her  brother  and  the  other  inmates  of  her  household 


72  MERRY-MOUNT. 


with  herself.  Again  she  awoke  the  silence  with  her  instrument ; 
and  now  as  the  last  echoes  subsided,  the  clear  tones  of  a  distant 
lute  rose  upon  the  air,  in  a  strain  of  exquisite  melody.  Esther 
listened  with  a  vague  sensation  of  awe.  It  seemed  as  if  some 
enchantment  were  spread  over  the  forest.  The  instrument  was 
struck  by  the  hand  of  a  master.  The  music,  although  plaintive 
and  touching,  was  highly  intricate  and  artificial  in  its  character, 
and  Esther's  bewilderment,  as  she  listened  to  this  spirit-like 
melody,  was  complete. 

The  strain  was  finished,  and  silence  again  brooded  over  the 
scene.  Who  the  invisible  artist  was,  and  what  his  purpose 
might  be,  she  could  not  guess.  Was  this  vast  wilderness  peopled 
by  aerial  spirits,  of  which  the  old  world's  grey  mythology  had  not 
dreamed  ?  Were  these  viewless  wanderers  of  the  wood  benefi 
cent  or  malignant  in  their  nature?  Had  this  mystic  strain 
sounded  upon  her  ear  only  to  perplex  her  still  farther,  and  lead 
her  on  into  still  deeper  and  more  hidden  intricacies  of  the 
forest  ? 

She  stood  in  that  lonely  spot,  pondering  upon  the  strange 
circumstances  which  surrounded  her,  and  irresolute  what  course 
to  pursue.  Suddenly,  as  she  looked  towards  the  wood,  which 
inclosed  on  all  sides  the  rock  where  she  was  standing,  she 
thought  she  saw  the  motions  of  a  living  creature  amid  the 
branches  of  a  tree.  A  feeling  of  terror  came  over  her,  and  she 
remained  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  spot.  She  was  not  mis 
taken.  It  was  not  the  evening  wind  which  stirred  the  foliage. 
Presently  a  slender  branch  was  moved  cautiously  aside,  and 
Esther  heard  a  low,  whispering  sound.  Her  blood  began  to 
freeze,  the  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth,  and  she 
remained  motionless  as  a  statue,  awaiting,  in  silent  horror,  the 
danger  which  was  to  befall  her.  As  she  gazed  upon  the  spot 
where  she  had  perceived  the  motion  of  the  foliage,  with  senses 
sharpened  by  apprehension,  she  now  distinctly  saw  two  bright, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  73 


savage  eyes  glaring  directly  upon  her  face.  What  wild  denizen 
of  the  forest  it  was,  whether  savage  beast  or  still  more  savage 
man,  she  knew  not.  Her  suspense  was  but  short,  for  presently 
a  shrill  whoop  struck  her  ear,  and  at  the  next  moment  a  painted 
Indian,  with  bow  and  tomahawk,  sprang  through  the  thicket, 
and  stood  close  to  her  upon  the  rocky  platform.  Esther  uttered 
not  a  sound,  but  dropped  upon  her  knees,  raising  her  clasped 
hands  in  mute  supplication.  For  a  brief  space  the  Indian  stood 
stock-still,  gazing  at  her  in  grim  admiration. 

'Twas  a  strange,  but  fearful  sight,  could  one  have  looked 
upon  those  two  breathing  statues,  placed  upon  that  rocky  pedes 
tal  —  upon  the  bronze,  impassible  savage,  upon  the  motion 
less  marble  of  Esther's  kneeling  figure.  How  long  they  re 
mained  in  this  strange  position,  she  could  not  tell,  for  into 
each  of  those  moments  was  crowded  an  age  of  agony ;  but  it 
had  at  last  its  termination.  The  savage  moved  towards  her, 
as  she  still  remained  there  upon  her  knees,  and  with  a  succes 
sion  of  rapid  gestures  intimated  that  she  must  follow  him. 
Finding  her  still  immovable,  he  made  use  of  one  or  two  dis 
torted  English  phrases,  which  produced  as  little  effect.  Be 
coming  impatient  at  last,  he  strode  forward,  seized  her  by  the 
hair  of  her  head,  and  attempted  to  tear  her  away.  At  that  in 
stant  her  agony  burst  forth  in  one  wild  shriek.  The  savage, 
unheeding  her  screams  and  struggles,  and  still  bent  upon  his 
purposes,  seized  her  in  his  powerful  arms,  lifted  her  from  the 
ground,  and  was  bearing  her  away,  when  suddenly  another  yell 
rose  upon  the  air,  and  caused  her  foe  to  pause  for  a  moment 
where  he  stood.  In  the  next  instant  two  other  Indians,  armed 
to  the  teeth,  sprang  nimbly  upon  the  ledge,  and  confronted  the 
captor  and  his  victim.  Finding  himself  thus  beset,  the  foe  of 
Esther  placed  her  gently  upon  the  ground,  and  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  at  bay.  It  was  but  an  instant,  for  he  was  soon  desperately 


74  MERRY-MOUNT. 


beset  by  the  two  new-comers.  His  resistance  was  but  momen 
tary,  for  finding  himself  so  much  overmatched,  the  wary  savage, 
dexterously  avoiding  a  blow  which  was  near  cleaving  his  skull, 
suddenly  threw  himself  bodily  over  the  high  and  precipitous 
rock,  caught  at  a  projecting  branch  of  a  stunted  oak  which 
grew  half  way  down,  and  swinging  himself  nimbly  from  one 
point  to  another,  soon  disappeared  in  the  thicket.  Esther  re 
mained,  more  dead  than  alive,  upon  the  very  spot  in  which  her 
enemy  had  left  her,  hardly  able  to  lift  her  eyes  towards  her  new 
captors,  and  venturing  scarcely  to  doubt  that  she  had  but 
escaped  one  danger  to  fall  into  another  to  the  full  as  formidable. 
There  was  a  brief  pause  of  a  few  moments,  during  which  she 
remained  mute  and  motionless,  but  not  insensible,  when  at  last 
the  silence  was  broken  by  a  shrill  and  peculiar  cry,  uttered  by 
one  of  the  savages.  After  a  brief  delay,  the  cry  seemed  to  be 
answered  at  a  slight  distance,  by  a  clear,  exquisite  melody, 
played  by  the  same  instrument  which  had  excited  her  wonder 
but  a  short  time  before.  Esther  knew  not  why,  but  her  heart, 
which  was  almost  dead  within  her,  began  to  beat  with  a  vague 
and  trembling  hope,  as  that  delicate  strain  fell  upon  her  ear. 
Earthly  or  aerial,  the  invisible  musician  seemed  to  be  in  league 
with  her  present  captors,  and  it  seemed  impossible  that  such  gentle 
sounds  should  breathe  of  danger  and  of  blood.  It  was  strange, 
but  at  that  moment  it  seemed  as  if  her  curiosity  was  even 
stronger  than  her  fears.  She  started  to  her  feet,  looked  for  the 
first  time  at  her  new  companions,  and  was  more  pleased  than 
astonished  to  find  that  the  expression  of  their  painted  faces  was 
not  ferocious,  and  that  their  gestures  seemed  respectful.  She 
stood  anxiously  awaiting  the  termination  of  the  adventure  with 
more  of  hope  than  terror.  Presently  a  light  step  was  heard  in 
the  thicket  at  the  base  of  the  ledge.  She  turned  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  sound,  and  saw  a  slight  but  active  figure  ascending 
the  cliff. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  75 


The  new  comer  was  no  savage.  Esther  saw  it  at  a  glance. 
There  was  still  ample  light  to  read  his  countenance,  and  she  felt 
a  sensation  of  relief  as  she  looked  upon  the  stranger,  who  was  ad 
vancing  softly  towards  her.  His  countenance  was  smooth  and  very 
fair  ;  the  features  were  those  of  a  delicate  and  beautiful  youth. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  somewhat  fantastic  but  European  garb ; 
wore  pistols  in  the  girdle  which  bound  his  slender  waist,  and 
held  a  kind  of  partisan  or  spear-headed  staff  in  his  hand.  A 
small  musical  instrument,  of  peculiar  structure,  which  hung  care 
lessly  upon  his  shoulder,  left  no  doubt  that  the  invisible  musician, 
whose  strains  had  so  excited  her  wonder,  stood  in  reality  before 
her. 

If  her  fancy  had  been  bewildered  before,  when  she  had  but 
heard  those  singular  melodies  and  knew  not  whether  they  proceed 
ed  from  earth  or  air,  she  was  not  much  less  perplexed,  now  that 
she  gazed  upon  the  singular  being  who  had  thus  presented  him 
self  before  her. 

In  the  mean  time  the  youth  had  approached,  and  stood  gazing 
upon  her  face  with  eyes  which  spoke  strange  language.  The 
expression  of  his  countenance  was  earnest,  at  times  tender,  but 
changeable,  and  it  ever  and  anon  became  wild  and  almost  fierce. 

After  gazing  upon  her  for  a  few  moments,  he  addressed  a 
hurried  observation,  in  an  unknown  tongue,  to  his  two  attend 
ants,  who,  in  obedience  to  what  seemed  a  command,  suddenly 
descended  to  the  bottom  of  the  cliff,  where  they  placed  them 
selves  in  a  recumbent  attitude  upon  the  ground,  awaiting  the 
orders  of  him  who  seemed  their  superior.  Esther  and  the  youth 
were  left  alone  upon  the  cliff. 

Observing  that  her  new  companion,  whether  friend  or  foe, 
remained  silent  and  serious,  gazing  upon  her  countenance  as  if 
he  would  have  read  her  soul,  she  felt  a  strange  trouble.  Deter 
mined,  if  possible,  to  put  an  end  to  this  suspense,  she  collected 
her  thoughts  and  addressed  him,  in  low  but  firm  accents. 


76  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  I  know  not  who  or  whence  you  may  be,"  she  said,  "  but  your 
looks  are  gentle,  and  your  countenance  shows  you  to  be  of  Eng 
lish,  or  at  least,  of  European  lineage." 

"  You  are  right,  lady;"  answered  the  stranger,  in  a  low,  mu 
sical  tone.  "  My  lineage  is  English,  my  birth-place  England, 
although  much  of  my  life  hath  been  passed  in  other  climes." 

"  Then  I  cannot  doubt,"  returned  Esther,  with  more  confi 
dence,  "  that  I  am  in  the  company  of  a  friend.  It  is,  doubtless, 
by  your  agency  that  I  have  been  saved  from  a  fate  of  unknown 
horror.  And,"  continued  she,  with  a  shudder  convulsing  her 
frame,  "  if  I  lack  words  to  express  my  gratitude,  you  cannot 
doubt  how  sincerely  it  is  felt.  You  know  not  who  I  am,  but  you 
see  before  you  an  English  woman,  not  long  a  dweller  in  this 
wilderness,  who  hath  unluckily  lost  her  way  in  the  forest.  If 
you  could  guide  me  to  the  residence  of  Walter  Ludlow,  you 
would  increase  my  debt  to  you  a  thousand-fold.  Are  you  per 
chance  acquainted  with  the  spot  where  Walter  Ludlow  dwells?" 

"  I  am,  indeed,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  wild  and  almost 
savage  expression  passing  like  a  cloud  across  his  beautiful  coun 
tenance.  "  I  know  the  residence  of  Walter  Ludlow  well. 

"  Then  I  am  sure,"  cried  Esther,  "that  I  shall  not  urge  you 
in  vain  to  conduct  me  thither." 

"  I  shall  do  so,  Esther  Ludlow,"  answered  the  stranger  — 
"  doubt  it  not.  Although  you  have  wandered  far  enough  to  per 
plex  yourself,  yet  is  the  way  homeward  neither  long  nor  difficult. 
I  pledge  myself  to  conduct  you  thither." 

"  Thanks,  a  thousand  thanks  !  "  answered  Esther.  "  I  knew 
that  your  purposes  could  hardly  prove  unfriendly.  But  it  seems 
that  my  name  is  known  to  you." 

"  Aye,  lady,"  answered  the  other,  "  your  name  and  person  are 
both  well  known  to  me." 

"  'T  is  strange  ! "  cried  Esther,  "  for  surely  never  have  my 
eyes  looked  upon  you  before.  Is  it,  indeed,"  continued  she, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  77 


musingly  to  herself,  "  is  it  indeed  a  gentle  spirit  of  these  ancient 
woods,  sent  hither  to  relieve  me  in  my  hour  of  peril  ? "  As 
Esther  gazed  upon  the  stranger,  his  very  beautiful  countenance, 
the  gentleness  and  elegance  of  his  person,  so  strangely  contrast 
ing  with  the  savage  scenery  around  them,  and  the  romantic 
character  of  his  whole  appearance,  almost  authorized  the  belief 
that  he  was  rather  one  of  those  aerial  beings  "  who  play  i'  the 
plighted  clouds,"  than  a  mortal  denizen  of  the  wilderness. 

"  And  know  you  my  brother,  Walter  Ludlow  ?  "  said  she  aloud. 

"  I  have  never  looked  upon  his  face,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why,  this  is  stranger  still,"  thought  Esther.  "  And  are  you 
a  permanent  sojourner  in  the  wilderness?" 

"  Nay  ;  with  me  nothing  is  permanent,"  replied  the  stranger. 
"Change,"  continued  he,  "  is  the  element  in  which  I  have  my 
being.  Ask  of  yonder  purple  cloud,"  said  he,  pointing  upwards, 
"  which  even  now  floats  by  the  rising  moon,  and  for  an  instant 
is  steeped  in  its  silver  radiance,  ask  if  its  glory  be  permanent. 
Ask  how  soon  it  will  be  mingling  its  being  in  the  tempest's  rack, 
and  sweeping  round  the  world,  destroying  and  destroyed  ?  No, 
lady,  change  is  my  element;  alas,  in  all  regards  save  one,  save 
one  !  " 

The  enigmatical  language  of  the  stranger  seemed  to  confirm 
Esther's  suspicions.  Still  there  was  something  earnest  and  even 
tender  in  his  looks  and  language,  something  gentle  in  his  melan 
choly,  that  touched  her  heart  and  forced  her  to  reject  the  fanci 
ful  supposition. 

" 'T  is  strange,"  said  she,  "that  my  own  person  should  be 
familiar  to  you,  and  that  of  Walter  Ludlow  unknown " 

"Is  Walter  Ludlow  the  only  dweller  in  the  wilderness  in 
whom  you  feel  an  interest?  "  asked  the  stranger,  abruptly. 

"  Nay,"  answer  Esther,  "  there  be  many  of  the  scattered  set 
tlers  in  this  neighborhood  who  have  my  warmest  sympathy." 

"And   yet,"   continued   the    other,   "there  is  one  who  hath 


78  MERRY-MOUNT. 


sojourned  here  many  months,  whom  one  cause  alone  brought 
hither.  'T  is  strange,"  continued  he,  abstractedly,  "  that  there 
should  be  such  power  in  a  woman's  face,  to  lead  across  wintry 
seas,  and  to  chain  in  howling  deserts,  one  whose  heart  was  care 
less,  whose  existence  was  bright.  Let  me  look  once  more  upon 
that  face." 

As  he  spoke,  the  youth  advanced  close  to  Esther,  laid  his 
hand  gently  upon  her  shoulder,  and  gazed  long  and  intently 
upon  her,  as  if  he  would  have  read  her  soul.  Esther  started 
back  arid  colored  slightly,  at  this  familiarity.  A  vague  fear  stole 
over  her  mind,  but  at  the  moment  she  seemed  so  entirely  in  the 
stranger's  power,  that  she  was  unwilling  unnecessarily  to  excite 
his  anger.  Moreover,  there  was  so  much  gentleness  arid  delicacy 
in  all  his  movements,  that  she  felt,  in  spite  of  the  loneliness  of 
her  situation  and  the  mysterious  character  of  her  companion,  a 
sensation  of  confidence,  for  which  she  could  hardly  account. 

"Fear  nothing,  lady,"  said  the  stranger,  in  gentle  tones; 
"  fear  not  that  I  should  gaze  too  long  or  too  fondly  upon  your 
face.  Fate  having  thus  accidentally  placed  me  by  the  side  of  a 
sorceress,  whose  power  I  have  dreaded,  I  did  but  desire  to  study 
the  character  of  her  enchantment.  Fear  not  that  I,  too,  shall 
feel  the  spell.  Nay,  believe  me,  how  much  injury  soever  we 
may  mutually  and  unwittingly  inflict  upon  each  other,  when  I 
swear  to  you  at  this  moment  that  I  wish  you  well,  and  that 
my  intentions  toward  you  are  fair  and  friendly.  One  single 
question  more,  and  I  will  lead  you  to  the  dwelling  of  Walter 
Ludlow." 

"  Speak  on,"  replied  Esther,  utterly  perplexed  by  her  com 
panion's  language. 

"Do  you  love  Harry  Maudsley?"  asked  the  youth,  with 
startling  abruptness. 

Esther  recoiled  a  step  from  her  companion,  as  he  thus  ad 
dressed  to  her  this  extraordinary  question,  and  hesitated  a 
moment  ere  she  replied. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  79 


"I  know  not  who  or  whence  you  are,"  she  said  at  last,  "  nor 
your  motives,  in  thus  taking  advantage  of  my  lonely  situation  to 
insult  one  who  hath  never  injured  you.  It  is  base,  it  is  un 
manly,  it  is  unworthy  of  an  Englishman,  of  whatsoever  creed  or 
party  he  may  be." 

"Nay,  lady,"  answered  the  other  calmly,  "I  meant  not  thus 
to  move  your  indignation.  But  I  will  take  advantage  of  our 
present  situation,  not  to  inflict  injuries  or  insults,  but  to  render 
you  a  service.  I  implore  you  to  answer  my  question.  Believe 
the  word  of  one  who  wishes  well  to  both  of  ye,  when  he  swears 
that  he  hath  no  evil  motive  in  asking  a  question,  rude,  perhaps, 
and  sudden,  but  as  honest  as  it  is  plain.  Tell  me,  do  you  love 
Henry  Maudsley?" 

Esther  felt  extreme  wonder  that  the  extraordinary  familiarity 
of  the  stranger  did  not,  for  some  unaccountable  reason,  excite 
the  indignation  in  her  bosom,  which  she  felt  should  have  been 
aroused.  The  voice  and  manner  of  her  companion  seemed  to 
divest  his  language  of  much  of  its  intrinsic  boldness.  Some 
thing,  too,  of  the  indefinite  impression  that  her  companion  pos 
sessed  some  weird  influence  over  her  destiny,  and  that  his 
purposes  were  kindly,  though  mysterious,  still  lingered  in  her 
fancy,  and  was  not  without  its  effects. 

"  I  wish  well  to  Henry  Maudsley,"  she  replied,  wondering,  as 
she  did  so,  at  her  docility. 

"Do  you  love  Henry  Maudsley?"  replied  her  companion, 
with  even  more  excitement  of  manner.  "  I  implore  you  for  the 
last  time,  nay,  I  command  you,  to  answer  that  question.  Your 
own  fate,  his  own,  and  that  of  others  whom  you  dream  not  of, 
may  be  at  this  moment  trembling  upon  your  answer.  An 
answer  I  will  have,  ere  either  of  us  leaves  this  labyrinth.  Fate 
hath  conducted  me  hither  to  read  a  riddle,  and  1  swear  to  you 
that  the  riddle  shall  now  be  solved." 

"Is  this  threatening  language  worthy  of  you ?"  said  Esther. 


80  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"Is  this  an  English  gentleman's  courtesy  to  an  unprotected 
woman?" 

"  Pardon  me,  lady,  but  I  could  set  my  life  upon  this  cast. 
Whether  I  use  threats,  promises,  or  prayers,  my  object  is  the 
same,  your  welfare  and  my  own.  The  moments  are  rapidly 
passing;  you  know  not  how  much  of  weal  or  woe  your  answer 
may  effect.  Answer  me,  I  do  not  say  truly,  for  truth  alone 
could  speak  from  those  pure  lips,  but  answer  me  at  once.  Do 
you  love  Henry  Maudsley?" 

"I  do,"  murmured  Esther,  in  a  soft,  broken  voice,  overcome 
at  last  by  the  stranger's  passionate  demeanor  and  her  own  vague 
fears. 

"  Thank  God  for  that  answer,"  cried  the  youth,  with  strange 
exultation. 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  moments,  during  which  Esther 
strove  in  vain  to  collect  herself.  The  silence  was  broken  by  the 
stranger,  who  addressed  her  again  in  an  earnest  but  a  calmer 
tone. 

"Listen  to  me  once  more,"  said  he,  "I  give  you  a  warning, 
which  should  have  some  value  in  your  mind.  Sport  not  with  the 
happiness  of  two  hearts  which  have  grown  together.  Pervert 
not  the  destiny  of  Maudsley,  nor  your  own.  Maudsley  loves  you 
more  than  life.  His  fate  is  in  your  hands." 

Esther,  confounded,  at  times  almost  indignant  at  the  language 
of  her  companion,  uttered  not  a  reply.  There  was  another 
pause.  After  the  expiration  of  a  few  moments,  the  youth  sud 
denly  moved  towards  Esther. 

"  The  night  is  advancing.  Shall  I  not  conduct  you  to  your 
brother's  residence  ?  "  said  he. 

"Ah,  let  me  entreat  you  to  hasten  thither,"  replied  Esther, 
"  and  spare  me,  I  beseech  you,  for  the  remainder  of  our  com 
panionship,  language  like  the  mysterious  words  which  you  have 
lately  spoken.  Indeed,  they  trouble  and  perplex  my  soul. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  SI 


"  Fear  nothing,  Esther  Ludlovv,"  replied  the  youth  ;  "  and 
now  let  me  conduct  you  from  this  lonely  spot." 

As  he  spoke,  he  gently  assisted  her  along  the  uncertain  foot 
ing  of  the  rock.  When  they  had  at  last  reached  the  bottom  of 
the  ledge  the  stranger  whistled  thrice.  Forthwith  two  dusky 
figures  sprang  from  the  thicket  as  noiselessly  as  phantoms,  and 
without  uttering  a  word  glided  slowly  before  them  through  the 
thicket.  The  stranger  seemed  to  be  as  familiar  with  every  step 
of  those  bosky  bourns  as  if  he  had  been  indeed  a  spirit  haunting 
their  sylvan  solitude.  A  tortuous  deer-path,  winding  through 
the  tangled  woods,  seemed  the  thread  which  was  to  lead  them 
from  their  leafy  labyrinth.  To  Esther  the  path  would  have  been 
almost  invisible  by  daylight,  but  at  night  it  seemed  as  if  magic 
alone  could  enable  their  shadowy  guides  to  pass  thus  rapidly 
before  them  through  the  thicket,  and  her  slender  and  youthful 
companion  to  follow  their  track  so  carelessly  and  yet  so  accu 
rately. 

After  a  rapid  and  silent  march  of  some  half  hour's  duration, 
they  emerged  into  a  broad,  open  glade,  which  was  familiar  to 
her  eyes.  Through  the  majestic  trees  at  the  farther  extremity, 
the  level  line  of  light  streamed  from  the  windows  of  her  own 
cottage.  Having  reached  this  spot,  the  youth  paused  and  once 
more  addressed  her  : 

"We  part  at  this  moment  ;  whether  we  meet  again  I  know 
not ;  but  remember  my  words  of  warning,  and  remember  that  I 
wish  you  well.  There  is  one  other  warning  which  I  meant  to 
give  you,  and  the  hour  has  come." 

"  Speak,"  said  Esther,  wondering  what  new  mystery  was 
impending,  but  feeling  relieved  of  much  of  her  anxiety,  now  that 
her  companion  had  in  reality  brought  her  in  safety  to  her  own 
dwelling-place. 

The  stranger  advanced  closely  to  her,  and  once  more  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  shoulder.  "  Danger  and  distress  threaten  you," 


82  MERRY-MOUNT. 


he  whispered  hoarsely  in  her  ear,  "  in  the  person  of  a  certain 
mysterious  knight.  I  tell  you  to  beware  of  him.  Shun  him  as 
you  would  shrink  from  a  subtle  and  poisonous  serpent.  Distrust 
every  word,  every  motion,  every  look.  Farewell,  Esther  Lud- 
low,  and  may  God  preserve  you  from  every  danger." 

There  was  a  pause.  Esther  trembled,  she  knew  not  why,  at 
the  warning  language  of  her  companion.  She  collected  herself, 
however,  by  a  determined  effort,  and  turned  to  thank  the 
stranger  for  his  safe  guidance  through  the  forest,  but  he  was 
gone.  She  called  in  a  loud  whisper,  there  was  no  answer ;  she 
advanced  a  few  steps  towards  the  forest  from  whence  they  had 
emerged,  but  the  youth,  with  his  shadowy  attendants,  had  sud 
denly  disappeared. 

Wearied  and  harassed  by  the  fatiguing  adventures  of  the 
evening,  she  moved  with  a  desponding  step  towards  the  cottage. 
As  she  approached  her  home,  a  tall,  dark  figure,  bearing  a 
lighted  torch,  suddenly  crossed  the  glade,  and  strode  rapidly 
towards  her. 

"  We  have  been  searching  for  you  far  and  near,"  said  a  deep, 
earnest  voice;  "thank  God,  you  are  found  again." 

Esther  shuddered,  for  she  recognised  the  voice  of  Sir  Christo-* 
pher  Gardiner, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  83 


CHAPTER    VI. 

DISSIMULATION. 

A  FEW  moments  later,  and  Esther  sat  within  her  own  cottage 
walls.  Every  living  creature  had  deserted  it,  for  Walter  Ludlow 
with  his  servants,  alarmed  at  the  protracted  absence  of  Esther, 
were  anxiously  wandering  through  the  forest  in  search  of  her. 
Esther  was  left  alone  with  the  knight,  who,  having  found  him 
self  accidentally  at  nightfall  in  the  neighborhood,  had  learned 
the  alarming  tidings  of  Esther's  absence  from  her  brother,  and 
had  volunteered  to  assist  them  in  the  search.  lie  was  just  re 
turning  from  an  unsuccessful  expedition  in  a  different  direction 
from  that  taken  by  the  others,  when  he  suddenly  encountered 
her  a  few  moments  after  the  stranger  had  left  her. 

Esther  felt  a  sensation  of  despair  as  she  found  herself  thus 
suddenly  in  the  presence  of  one  who  had  always  excited  a  vague 
and  unaccountable  fear  in  her  bosom,  and  against  whom  she 
had  been  at  that  moment  so  mysteriously  warned.  Overpowered 
by  fatigue,  and  by  the  keen  emotions  which,  for  the  last  hour, 
had  been  agitating  her,  she  sank  almost  fainting  upon  a  seat. 

The  knight  gazed  with  a  long,  bold,  impassioned  glance  at 
that  form  of  majestic  beauty,  thus  reclining  before  him,  so  help 
less  and  so  lonely.  A  wild  fire  danced  in  his  eye.  A  cloud  of 
stormy  passion  seemed  sweeping  across  his  brow.  His  features 
quivered,  his  frame  shook  with  emotion.  Suddenly  he  aroused 
himself,  and  with  a  strong  effort  seemed  to  control  the  strug 
gling  devil  in  his  soul. 

"  Fool,  fool,"  he  muttered,  "  wouldst  thou  dash  into  frag 
ments  thus  the  work  of  years  ?  Hus  time  brought  no  coolness 
to  thy  blood  ?  " 


84  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Checking  himself  thus,  he  busily,  but  respectfully,  employed 
himself  in  assisting  Esther.  He  bathed  her  face  with  water  ;  he 
chafed  her  hands  ;  he  employed  all  fitting  expedients  with  the 
quiet  but  active  tenderness  of  a  woman.  When  she  was  partially 
recovered  from  her  prostration,  he  administered  to  her  a  few 
drops  of  a  potent  restorative  from  a  flask  which  he  bore  about 
him. 

After  the  expiration  of  a  few  minutes,  she  was  herself  again. 
She  looked  around  in  bewilderment,  and  started  visibly,  as  she 
became  aware  of  the  presence  of  Gardiner,  who,  seated  respect 
fully  at  a  distance,  was  gazing  intently  upon  her  face. 

"Be  not  alarmed,  Esther  Ludlow,"  said  he  gently,  "although 
your  brother  is  absent,  he  cannot  fail  to  return  very  soon.  In 
the  mean  time,  be  assured  that  you  are  in  the  company  of  an 
earnest  and  sincere  friend." 

"  Where  is  my  brother  ? "  said  Esther,  faintly. 
"  Alarmed  at  your  disappearance,  he  is  searching  the  forest, 
attended  by  his  servants.    It  was  my  fortunate  lot  to  find  you,  as 
I  was  returning  alone  from  an  unsuccessful  search." 
"  Would  that  Walter  were  here,"  exclaimed  Esther. 
"  He  cannot  tarry  long,"  answered  Sir  Christopher ;  "  but  if 
it  be  your  pleasure,  I  will  go  forth  and  seek  him.     I   may  thus 
convey  to  him  a  little  earlier  the  news  of  your  fortunate  appear 
ance." 

"  Ah,  do  so,  do  so,"  said  Esther,  with  a  shuddering,  implor 
ing  accent,  as  if  she  were  striving  to  exorcise  a  fiend  from  her 
presence. 

"  I  go,"  said  Gardiner,  "  although  it  grieves  me  to  leave  you 
thus  unprotected ;  it  grieves  me  more,"  he  added  with  a  sigh, 
"  that  my  presence  seemeth  so  odious  in  your  eyes." 

"Nay,  nay,"  said  Esther,  alarmed,  lest  her  manner  should 
have  betrayed  too  much  aversion,  "  but  surely  it  is  fitting  that 
the  anxiety  of  Walter  Ludlow  should  be  shortened  as  much  as 
lieth  in  our  power." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  §5 


u  Enough,  Esther,"  said  Gardiner,  in  the  same  melancholy 
and  respectful  tone,  "  you  shall  be  obeyed.  Think  not,  however, 
that  I  should  have  been  so  base  as  to  have  taken  advantage 
of  this  unguarded  moment  to  urge  a  hopeless  suit.  You 
know,"  he  continued,  seeming  fiercely  to  control  a  rising  feeling, 
"  that  these  lips  have  never  dared  to  speak  of  emotions  which 
are  older,  deeper,  fiercer,  than  dwell  in  many  bosoms.  Is  it  not 
strange  that  such  a  one  as  I  have  been,  should  be  a  changeling 
now?  Is  it  not  strange  that  a  wonderful  and  holy  vision  should 
have  risen  upon  and  illuminated  my  soul  in  this  wilderness? 
Aye,  I  have  heard  a  voice  crying  out  to  me  from  the  very  depths 
of  the  desert.  I  looked,  and  behold,  it  was  to  me  as  if  the  gates 
of  Paradise  were  opening  upon  mine  eyes,  as  if  I  saw  the  celes 
tial  battlements  thronged  with  the  cherubim  and  seraphim,  and 
heard  the  immortal  strains  of  harp  and  sackbut,  even  from 
before  the  footstool  of  God !  I  bowed  to  the  dust,  as  the 
celestial  vision  swept  over  me." 

"  And  why  speakest  thou  to  me  of  these  things,"  interrupted 
Esther,  "  and  least  of  all,  at  this  place  and  season  ?  " 

"  Because  the  floodgates  of  my  heart  have  been  for  once 
broken  open,  and  the  long-imprisoned  feelings  rush  forth  beyond 
control,"  answered  Gardiner,  with  rising  impetuosity.  "I  tell 
you,  Esther  Ludlow,  that  it  is  to  thee,  and  to  thee  alone,  that  I 
owe  this  glorious  vision.  I  care  not  what  may  be  the  issue  of 
my  mortal  passion,  nor  to  how  hopeless  a  life  of  agony  your  fiat 
may  condemn  my  heart.  I  shall  always  bless  thee  upon  my 
knees,  that  thou,  under  God,  art  the  cause  of  the  new  life  that 
has  been  infused  into  my  being.  If,  as  I  humbly  dare  to  hope, 
the  Holy  Ghost  hath  descended  like  a  dove  upon  the  raging 
waters  of  my  sinful  heart,  and  at  last  found  a  resting-place  there, 
thou,  only  thou,  art  the  cause.  Is  this  not  reason  enough  that  I 
should  devote  a  life  to  your  service,  if  so  poor  a  boon  could  in 
aught  advantage  you?  I  speak  not  of  earthly  hope,  but  surely, 

VOL.  n.  8 


86  MERRY-MOUNT. 


surely  thou  wilt  not  reject  the  devotion  of  a  heart  which  owes 
its  salvation  to  your  blessed  example." 

"  Too  much  of  this,  too  much  of  this,"  cried  Esther,  rising 
from  her  seat,  with  a  troubled  and  almost  irritated  demeanor,  "  let 
me  implore  you  to  delay  no  longer  in  seeking  out  my  brother. 
This  language,  be  it  sincere  or  otherwise,  sounds  harshly  in  my 
ears,  neither  is  this  a  fitting  time  nor  place  for  such  a  theme." 

Without  uttering  a  word,  and  with  eyes  bent  modestly  and 
meekly  upon  the  ground,  the  knight  glided  towards  the  door. 
He  had  scarcely  opened  it,  when  there  was  a  noise  without,  the 
trampling  of  many  feet,  the  blazing  of  many  torches,  and  then 
Walter  Ludlow,  informed  of  Esther's  safety  by  a  glance  of  Sir 
Christopher,  rushed  into  the  room,  and  folded  his  sister  to  his 
heart. 

Great  was  the  joy  among  the  inmates  of  Ludlow's  household, 
and  fervent  the  thanks  offered  by  them  to  Gardiner,  who  was 
supposed  to  have  been  a  second  time  her  deliverer  from  death. 

After  a  short  time  passed  by  the  brother  and  sister  in  congrat 
ulations,  Esther  narrated  her  adventure  briefly  and  succinctly. 
She  dwelt  as  lightly  as  possible  upon  the  singular  and  mysterious 
personage  to  whom  her  deliverance  was  owing;  but  she  was 
startled,  as  she  alluded  to  the  youth,  to  observe  the  dark 
and  extraordinary  expression  of  Sir  Christopher's  face.  He 
uttered  not  a  syllable,  but  his  dark  eye  seemed  to  plunge  like  a 
poniard  into  her  heart.  The  expression,  although  fierce,  was 
momentary.  It  had  passed  away  sooner  than  the  wonder  which 
it  excited  in  Esther's  bosom.  Still,  she  felt  an  instinctive  reluc 
tance  at  dwelling  upon  the  details  of  her  adventure  in  Gardiner's 
presence,  and  she  accordingly  related  scarcely  a  syllable  of  the 
extraordinary  conversation  which  had  passed  between  her  and 
the  unknown. 

As  the  evening  wore  away,  the  conversation  had  rolled  upon 
other  matters.  Sir  Christopher,  who  was  to  be  the  guest  of 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


Walter  Lucllow  that  night,  made  some  inquiries  touching  the 
expedition  of  Eudicott,  who  was  to  have  set  sail  many  weeks 
before,  and  was  hourly  expected  in  New  England. 

"I  can  conceive,"  said  he,  "  no  nobler  lot  than  his.  To 
found  an  empire  upon  a  great  idea,  to  plant  a  seed  silently  in  the 
soil  of  this  wilderness,  certain  that,  under  the  shade  which  will 
spring  from  that  slender  cause,  whole  nations  will  repose,  is  not 
an  obscure,  although  it  may  be  a  painful  and  a  self-denying  lot." 

"Only  a  petty  soul,"  replied  Esther,  who  was  pleased  in  spite 
of  herself,  at  hearing  language  from  Gardiner's  lips  with  which 
she  could  ^feel  an  honest  sympathy,  "  only  a  petty  soul  would 
deem  that  destiny  obscure  by  which  a  few  humble  individuals 
are  singled  out  to  lay  the  corner-stone  of  an  empire  such  as  the 
world  hath  not  yet  seen.  None  but  petty  souls  would  count  the 
privations,  the  labors,  or  the  tears,  in  the  midst  of  which  so  high 
a  destiny  is  accomplished." 

"Aye,"  said  Gardiner,  "to  be  not  the  Cadmus,  nor  the 
Romulus,  nor  the  pirate  chieftain,  planting  wild  dynasties  with 
the  bloody  hand,  but  rather  the  prophet  and  the  lawgiver  of  an 
infant  state  —  to  be  the  Moses,  the  Joshua,  of  brave  enthusiasts, 
who  have  turned  their  backs  on  home  and  happiness,  only  that 
their  faces  may  still  be  turned  toward  God ;  this  is  ambition 
worthy  of  a  lofty  soul  !  " 

"  Aye,"  said  Esther,  "  so  seemeth  it  to  me.  England  groans 
under  the  worst  of  tyrannies,  the  dreary  tyranny  of  the  mitre. 
Less  dreary,  less  dead  than  such  a  land,  is  this  howling  wilder 
ness.  Whether  such  is  to  be  forever  the  condition  of  our  coun 
try,  or  whether  at  some  distant  day  the  star  of  hope  is  to  arise, 
who  shall  be  bold  enough  to  prophesy  ?  For  myself,  I  regret 
not  my  lot." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Gardiner,  enthusiastically,  "  for  if  a  happier 
day  is  ever  to  dawn  in  England,  it  must  be,  metbinks,  after  long 
and  fearful  convulsions.  The  promised  land  of  religious  free- 


88  MERRY-MOUNT. 


dom  may  be  reached  at  last,  but  a  red  sea  of  human  blood  rolls 
between  our  suffering  people  and  that  distant  shore.  Better,  far 
better,  the  air  of  the  wilderness,  better  the  wild  altars,  crowned 
with  the  virgin  flowers  of  a  purer  world." 

The  hours  rolled  on.  Esther  was  struck  with  the  coincidence 
of  sentiment  and  opinion  between  herself  and  Gardiner,  and 
pleased,  not  only  with  the  ready  response  which  his  eye  and 
tongue  seemed  to  render  to  her  own  language,  but  with  the 
sympathetic  anticipation  by  which  he  gave  exact  and  eloquent 
utterance  to  her  own  thoughts  even  as  she  formed  them.  She 
seemed  to  lose  something  of  her  abhorrence  of  his  person  and 
character. 

"  If  Maudsley  had  but  thought  and  spoken  like  this  stranger," 
thought  she  to  herself,  after  the  party  had  separated  for  the 
night,  and  she  was  alone  with  her  own  thoughts — "had  Henry 
Maudsley  thus  comprehended  the  depth  of  my  nature,  and  thus 
sympathized  with  rather  than  scoffed  at  the  aspirings  of  my 
soul.  Alas  !  he  knows  not  how  the  heart  which  he  hath  out 
raged,  might  perhaps,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  have  led  his 
own  to  better  and  holier  purposes.  Alas  !  Heaven  smiles  not 
upon  us  now !  " 


MERRY-MOUNT.  89 


CHAPTER    VII. 

AN    ACCOUNT    SETTLED. 

A  FEW  days  after  these  events,  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  was 
walking  alone  upon  the  beach  of  the  western  cove  at  Shawmut. 
lie  had  come  thither  for  the  purpose  of  conferring  with  the 
eccentric  hermit  of  the  peninsula,  but  had  found  him  absent. 
Being  anxious  for  an  interview  with  him,  he  still  loitered  in  the 
neighborhood  of  his  cottage,  hoping  that  ere  long  he  would 
return. 

The  knight  was  pondering  deeply  upon  his  position  in  New 
England,  which  was  harassing  and  irritating  enough,  although 
he  had  already  taken  his  resolution.  As  it  will  be  soon  more\ 
particularly  related,  the  long  expected  colony  of  Puritans, 
under  the  guidance  of  Captain  John  Endicott,  had  at  length 
arrived  at  Naumkeak.  They  were  provided  with  a  large  grant 
of  land  from  the  New  England  Council,  and  although,  as  yet, 
the  grant  was  not  fortified  by  a  confirmatory  charter  from  the 
crown,  they  expected  that  an  ample  one,  in  spite  of  all  opposi 
tion  and  intrigue,  would  shortly  be  obtained. 

Thomas  Morton,  Gardiner's  chief  confidant,  ally,  and  instru 
ment,  had,  as  the  knight  used  so  frequently  to  prophesy,  at  last 
irritated  the  more  orderly  inhabitants  of  New  England  beyond 
endurance.  The  expedition  against  him,  we  have  seen,  had 
been  successful.  The  Plymouth  captain  had  at  last,  without 
the  effusion  of  blood,  secured  the  person  of  the  Merry-Mount 
rioter,  and  had  carried  him  off  a  prisoner  to  Plymouth.  Here 
the  defeated  and  deposed  potentate  had  been  summoned  before 
the  magistrates  and  elders  of  the  colony,  but  had  refused  in  a 


90  MERRY-MOUNT. 


lofty  manner  to  acknowledge  their  jurisdiction.  After  being 
detained  several  weeks  a  prisoner,  he  had  been  finally  dis- 
spatched  to  England  in  a  vessel  sailing  from  the  Isle  of  Shoals. 
He  was  placed  under  the  charge  of  John  Oldham,  the  man  who 
claimed  the  territory  at  Mishawum  under  the  Gorges  grant,  and 
who,  several  years  before,  had  received  such  ignominious  treat 
ment  from  the  Plymouth  settlers.  He  had  lately,  however,  for 
purposes  of  his  own,  become  reconciled,  in  appearance  at  least, 
to  those  colonists,  and  it  was  a  striking  proof  of  their  confidence 
in  his  character  as  well  as  his  friendship,  that  the  man  whom 
they  had,  upon  a  former  occasion,  so  bitterly  wronged,  should 
have  been  selected  by  them  for  so  responsible  a  trust.  John 
Oldham,  in  short,  who  had  been  buffeted,  thumped,  and  literally 
kicked  out  of  Plymouth  in  1625,  was  now  charged  with  the 
guardianship  of  Thomas  Morton.  The  lord  of  Merry-Mount 
was  sent  to  England  to  answer  to  certain  charges  preferred 
against  him  here,  the  principal  of  which  were,  his  dealings  with 
the  Indians,  particularly  his  supplying  them  with  gunpowder 
and  fire-arms,  and  the  riotous  demeanor  of  himself  and  his  com 
panions  at  Merry-Mount. 

Gardiner  had  conceived  a  strong  hope  that  the  issue  of  the 
campaign  against  Merry-Mount,  would,  after  all,  tend  to  the 
furtherance  of  his  own  designs.  In  the  first  place,  although  his 
connection  with  Morton  still  remained  a  secret  throughout  New 
England,  he  feared  it  might  be  difficult  to  conceal  their  ac 
quaintance  much  longer.  The  character  of  Morton  was  so 
reckless  and  boisterous,  that  it  well  nigh  neutralized  the  advan 
tage  which  might  have  been  derived  from  his  knowledge  of  the 
country,  and  his  various  accomplishments.  If  he  could  have 
held  his  tongue,  he  would  have  been  an  excellent  conspirator. 
His  brawling  propensities  made  him  mischievous. 

As  for  the  knight  himself,  such  was  his  natural  genius  for 
intrigue,  and  so  highly  had  that  faculty  been  cultivated  during 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


his  adventurous  life,  that  he  really  possessed  at  that  moment 
only  a  dim  and  enigmatical  existence  in  the  wilderness.  So 
mysteriously  did  he  glide  to  and  fro,  now  pausing  a  moment  in 
the  rude  cabin  of  some  hardy  settler ;  now  roving  over  moor  and 
mountain  with  the  dusky  children  of  the  soil  ;  now  mingling  with 
the  stern  and  melancholy  Puritans  in  their  severe  and  primitive 
worship,  himself  more  stern  and  more  melancholy  than  them  all ; 
seen  occasionally  of  all,  but  mixing  with  none  ;  the  place  of  his 
residence  and  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  the  country  alike  un 
known  ;  he  seemed  but  an  unreal  shadow,  a  phantom,  appearing, 
vanishing,  and  re-appearing  at  different  places  and  seasons, 
without  a  definite  purpose,  and  almost  without  a  real  existence. 
So  far,  his  mask  had  been  securely  worn,  and  the  Plymouth 
people  had  no  suspicion  of  his  real  character. 

This  state  of  things  could  not,  however,  be  expected  to  last 
indefinitely,  and  the  knight,  unfortunately,  was  obliged  to  con 
sider  his  projects  as  postponed  for  a  considerable  time.  It  was 
therefore  rather  a  relief  to  him  than  otherwise,  when  his  anxiety 
as  to  Morton  was  terminated  by  the  capture  and  deportation  of 
that  eccentric  personage.  In  the  next  place,  Gardiner  conceived 
strong  hopes  from  the  fortuitous  conjunction  of  Oldham  and 
Morton.  Here  was  a  man  expressly  charged  with  the  safe-keep 
ing  of  his  old  ally,  who  had  not  only  been  deeply  wronged  by 
the  Plymouth  Puritans,  but  who  had  a  powerful  claim  to  a  con 
siderable  part  of  the  territory  now  granted  to  the  newly-arrived 
Massachusetts  Puritans.  Morton,  who  was  a  lawyer  by  profes 
sion,  and  possessed  of  no  contemptible  sagacity  in  the  science, 
could  not  fail,  in  the  course  of  a  long  voyage  to  England,  to 
strengthen  Oldham's  opinions  as  to  the  legality  of  his  territorial 
claim.  He  was,  moreover,  almost  certain,  by  his  eloquent  and 
sarcastic  invectives,  to  arouse  Oldham's  dormant  indignation 
against  the  whole  religious  party  in  New  England,  to  inflame  his 
ancient  prejudices,  and  to  secure  his  valuable  assistance  upon 


92  MERRY-MOUNT. 


their  arrival  in  England.  Much  might  be  made  before  the  New 
England  Council,  and  more  before  the  Lords  Commissioners  of 
the  Oldham  case.  As  for  the  charges  against  Morton,  and  the 
punishment  likely  to  be  measured  out  to  him,  Gardiner  gave 
himself  not  a  moment's  uneasiness.  Letters  which  the  knight, 
by  the  same  ship  which  conveyed  the  prisoner  to  England,  sent 
to  powerful  persons  there,  made  it  certain  in  his  own  mind,  that 
the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  would  escape  unscathed,  and  would 
be  allowed  to  return  to  the  new  world  whenever  it  suited  his 
convenience. 

These  considerations  served  to  keep  hope  still  burning  in  Gar 
diner's  mind.  Still  he  felt  that  his  very  soul  was  corroding  in  the 
wilderness,  and  he  would  have,  perhaps,  abandoned  his  enter 
prise  altogether,  dissatisfied  as  he  justly  was  at  the  supineness  of 
his  English  confederates,  but  for  the  sudden  and  extraordinary 
passion  which  had  taken  possession  of  his  soul.  Indeed,  it  is 
impossible  to  say  how  much  influence  the  beauty  and  the  impos 
ing  character  of  Esther  Ludlow  had  exerted  upon  the  destiny  of 
this  singular  adventurer.  In  other  scenes,  and  under  other 
circumstances,  a  passion  might  not  have  mounted  to  such  a  sud 
den  height,  in  a  heart  which  had  been  swept  by  so  many  and 
such  fierce  emotions ;  but  he  was  idle,  he  was  in  the  wilderness, 
and  his  jaded  soul  had  just  been  sated  with  a  passion  which  had 
burnt  itself  to  ashes.  At  that  very  moment  he  had  been  aroused 
from  the  torpor  which  seemed  to  be  creeping  slowly  over  his 
existence,  by  the  sudden  emotions  excited  by  the  beautiful  vision 
which  broke  forth  upon  him  in  the  wilderness. 

The  purity  of  Esther's  character  excited,  rather  than  repelled, 
the  depraved  imagination  of  Gardiner.  She  seemed  to  him  a 
priestess,  a  prophetess,  a  vestal ;  and  there  was  so  much  of  the 
Clodius  and  the  Catiline  in  his  temperament,  that  the  very 
sacredness  of  character  which  would  have  served  as  her  protect 
ing  shield  against  many  men,  was  in  his  eyes  but  as  an  enticing 


MERRY-MOUNT.  93 


veil,  enwrapping  and  enhancing  her  loveliness.  And  yet,  when  he 
found  himself  in  her  presence,  he  felt  at  times  an  unaccountable 
restraint.  Like  water  dashed  from  the  swan's  silvery  but  impen 
etrable  armor,  his  impetuous  thoughts  seemed  to  recoil  harm 
lessly  from  the  innocence  of  her  soul.  It  had  been  easy  for 
him  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  feeble  and  dreamy  Walter 
Ludlow,  but  he  felt  that  he  had  not  yet  obtained  even  the  most 
precarious  foothold  in  the  mind  of  his  lofty  sister.  It  was  this 
which  impelled  him  forward,  for  to  such  absolute  indifference  he 
had  not  been  accustomed  during  his  wild  career.  Never  had 
he  found  himself  so  absorbed  by  a  sentiment,  whose  indulgence 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  look  upon  as  a  pastime.  It  was 
strange,  but  it  seemed  that,  at  last,  his  hour  of  infatuated 
passion  had  arrived.  It  was  as  if  the  hard  remnant  of  his  inmost 
nature,  which,  like  the  diamond,  seemed  the  final  essence  of  a 
thousand  fires,  had  at  last  melted  before  Esther's  crystal  purity, 
as  the  impenetrable  gem  dissolves  in  the  burning-glass.  Still 
at  that  moment,  as  he  stood  alone  in  the  summer  sunshine,  his 
aspiring  thoughts  flew  upward  like  eagles.  To  win  so  bright  a 
prize  was  enough  to  repay  his  long  and  languid  exile  in  the 
desert,  even  should  his  other  lofty  visions  fade  forever.  But 
they  should  not  fade.  Though  they  seemed  to  roll  themselves 
away  into  the  azure  distance,  they  were  still  gilded  by  the  sun, 
and  brightly  in  that  imaginary  splendor  gleamed  the  gorgeous 
towers  of  his  golden  dreams.  With  his  imagination  bubbling 
like  a  witch's  cauldron,  he  paced  to  and  fro  upon  that  lonely 
beach,  chasing  the  airy  shapes  which  coursed  one  after  another 
in  long  procession  through  his  brain. 

Thus  absorbed,  and  soothed  as  he  loitered  in  that  solitude 
by  the  rippling  waves,  he  was  suddenly  aroused  from  his  reverie 
by  the  appeaarance  of  something  white  upon  the  water.  It  was 
a  sail  at  the  distance  of  about  half  a  mile,  advancing  from  the 
northward,  and  evidently  making  its  way  to  the  peninsula  of 
Shawmut. 


94  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Gardiner  watched  its  motions,  supposing  that  it  was  prob 
ably  the  solitary  inhabitant  of  the  promontory  returning  to  his 
domain.  As  the  boat  neared  him,  however,  his  keen  eye  at  once 
recognised  the  boat  and  its  occupant,  and  a  dark  and  singular 
expression  shot  across  his  features.  He  stood  motionless,  look 
ing  towards  the  little  skiff,  as  it  slowly  drifted  before  the  faint 
summer  breeze.  In  a  few  moments  the  keel  grated  upon  the 
pebbly  beach  within  a  few  yards  of  the  spot  where  he  stood, 
and  a  man  sprang  hastily  out,  paused  an  instant  to  moor  his 
boat,  and  then  strode  directly  towards  him.  The  new  comer 
was  Henry  Maudsley. 

"  Good  morrow,  Master  Maudsley,"  said  the  knight,  with 
unperturbed  visage;  "if  you  are  bent  upon  a  visit  to  the  hermit 
of  Shawmut  this  afternoon,  I  fear,  like  myself,  you  are  come  but 
upon  a  fool's  errand." 

"  I  thank  you,  Sir  Christopher,  for  your  information,  which  is 
doubly  agreeable  to  me,"  answered  Maudsley,  whose  voice  was 
low  and  husky.  "  I  did  indeed  purpose  a  visit  to  Master  Blax- 
ton  to-day,  but  I  am  fortunate,  both  in  finding  him  absent,  arid 
in  finding  yourself  as  his  substitute." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Gardiner,  calmly,  "  and  in  what  manner  can 
I  serve  you,  Master  Maudsley  ?  In  what  way  can  I  act  as  the 
representative  of  the  holy  clerk  of  Shawmut?" 

"  My  affair,"  answered  Maudsley,  with  rising  passion,  "  my 
affair  with  Master  Blaxton  can  be  deferred  ;  that  with  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner  brooks  no  delay." 

"Indeed,"  said  Gardiner,  with  a  sneering  affectation  of  curi 
osity,  "  have  we  such  pressing  business  to  settle  ?  Pray,  let  me 
remain  no  longer  ignorant  of  such  weighty  matters.  Let  us 
proceed  to  business  at  once." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Maudsley,  unsheathing  his  sword 
with  a  sudden  movement. 

"  Hey-day,  hey-day,  Master  Maudsley  !  "  said  the   knight,  in 


MERRY-MOUNT.  95 


an  accent  of  astonishment,  unbaring  his  own  rapier,  however, 
with  lightning-like  rapidity  ;  "  was  your  voyage  to  Shawrnut  this 
morning  made  for  the  special  purpose  of  my  assassination  ?  If 
it  be  not  presumptuous,  I  would  fain  ask  your  cause  of  quarrel." 

"  I  have  no  inclination  to  waste  these  precious  moments  in 
idle  brawling,"  answered  Maudsley.  "  Your  own  hypocritical 
heart  will  tell  you  in  clearer  tones  than  mine,  our  cause  of 
quarrel.  You  have  escaped  me  once,  through,  I  could  almost 
believe,  supernatural  agency.  Should  I  fail  a  second  time  to 
chastise  your  villany,  the  fault  would  be  mine." 

"  These  be  bold  and  bitter  words,"  returned  Gardiner,  who 
seemed  for  some  mysterious  reason  to  be  singularly  averse  to  an 
encounter  with  Maudsley.  "  But  stay,  the  days  are  long  at  this 
particular  season,  and  I  am  a  searcher  after  truth.  Enlighten 
me,  for  by  St.  John,  you  shall  take  nothing  by  your  braggadocio 
humor,  and  shall  lose  nothing  by  a  more  perspicuous  course  of 
conduct." 

Maudsley  stared  at  the  knight  in  profound  astonishment. 
He  was  utterly  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  possible  motives 
could  restrain  him  from  accepting  a  combat  thus  fiercely  urged 
upon  him.  Of  his  courage  and  skill  at  every  weapon  he  enter 
tained  no  doubt,  and  his  imperturbable  coolness  at  this  particular 
juncture,  proved  that  he  was  acting  deliberately.  Maudsley,  as 
we  know,  before  the  particular  cause  for  his  hatred  had  occurred, 
had  already  conceived  a  peculiar  and  unaccountable  detestation 
of  Gardiner,  which  the  knight  had  upon  all  occasions  appeared 
very  cordially  to  reciprocate.  There  had  always  seemed  some 
thing  more  than  caprice  in  Maudsley's  aversion,  and  Gardiner's 
conduct  had  always  been  apparently  dictated  by  some  secret,  but 
decided  motive.  In  short,  it  seemed  that  Maudsley  was  governed 
either  by  interest,  or  presentiment,  or  by  both,  while  Gardiner's 
hatred  was  the  result  of  actual,  although  concealed,  knowledge. 

As  for  Sir  Christopher,  he  seemed  to  have  an  especial  motive 


96  MERRY-MOUNT. 


for  self-control,  and  he  stood  in  a  careless  attitude  of  defence, 
like  a  reposing  gladiator,  calmly,  but  fixedly,  regarding  his 
antagonist  in  the  eye,  and  silently  awaiting  his  response. 

"  I  came  not  here  to  play  the  fool,"  said  Maudsley  at  last, 
"nor  to  answer  to  any  catechism.  Neither  am  I  disposed  to 
enter  upon  a  detail  of  grievances  of  which  you  are  as  well 
instructed  as  myself.  If  you  must  have  reasons,  let  this  suffice," 
and,  as  he  spoke,  the  impetuous  youth  endeavored  to  strike  his 
antagonist  with  the  flat  of  his  sword. 

"  Fairly  and  softly,"  answered  the  knight,  coolly,  but  adroitly, 
recoiling  a  few  paces  to  avoid  the  proffered  insult.  "  If  there 
be  really  so  many  and  such  weighty  reasons  already  existing, 
why  invent  fictitious  and  imaginary  ones  1  Tell  me  frankly  and 
nobly,  as  befits  the  dignity  of  this  imposing  solitude,  tell  me 
plainly  your  wrongs,  and  if  there  be  no  redress,  I  swear  to  you, 
you  shall  have  vengeance." 

Maudsley  was  more  and  more  irritated,  and  yet  more  and 
more  perplexed.  An  impetuous,  passionate  man,  particularly  if 
he  be  very  young,  is  very  apt  to  be  worsted  in  an  altercation 
with  a  cool,  adroit  man  of  maturer  years,  and  he  is  the  more 
likely  to  be  worsted  if  he  happens  to  be  entirely  in  the  right. 
Feeling  sure  to  be  baffled  in  argument,  because  he  felt  himself 
too  angry  to  utter  an  intelligible  syllable,  he  took  refuge  for 
the  moment  in  silence. 

"  Then  you  persist  in  denying  me  your  catalogue  of  grievan 
ces,"  continued  Gardiner,  after  a  pause.  "  'T  is  strange,  but 
one  would  have  even  expected  eloquence  from  your  lips  upon 
such  a  subject.  Since,  however,  you  will  not  speak,  and  since 
I  have  no  more  desire  than  yourself  for  prolonging  this  inter 
view,  I  shall  myself  state  your  cause  of  quarrel.  It  lies  in  an 
almond  shell,  good  Master  Maudsley,  even  in  the  soft  eyes  of  a 
certain  Puritan  maiden " 

Maudsley  started,  and  made  a  fierce,  quick,  gesture  of  assent. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


97 


"  Jealousy  is  a  common  passion,"  continued  Gardiner,  "  a 
common  cause  of  quarrel.  I  will  not  say  that  in  some  respects 
there  may  not  be  foundation  for  your  jealousy.  But,  good 
Master  Maudsley,  where  many  strive  but  one  can  be  chosen." 

"In  one  word,"  cried  Maudsley,  boiling  over  with  his 
hitherto  painfully  repressed  wrath,  "  I  pronounce  you  a  hypo 
crite  and  a  villain.  Whence  and  wherefore  sprang  the  hatred 
which  I  have  borne  you  since  your  dark  shadow  first  fell  across 
my  path,  I  ask  not.  There  may  be  hatred  at  first  sight,  it  seems, 
as  ardent  as  first  love.  That  you  are  a  hypocrite,  I  know. 
Your  object  is  the  perdition  of  one  who,  in  her  saintly  purity,  is 
as  far  above  your  sphere  as  heaven  from  hell.  I  know  that  your 
designs  are  all  artful  and  base,  and  that  your  whole  existence  iij 
this  wilderness,  of  which  you  prate  so  loftily,  is  one  long  lie." 

"  And  think  you,"  answered  Sir  Christopher,  still  preserving 
the  same  careless  attitude,  in  spite  of  Maudsley's  violent 
language,  "  and  think  you  to  arrogate  to  yourself  a  monopoly  of 
jealousy  ?  Think  you  that  the  dark  passion  finds  its  only  home 
in  your  bosom  ?  Think  you  that  I,  even  I,"  continued  he,  with 
an  ominous  expression  upon  his  dark  brow,  and  with  a  voice  of 
rising  passion,  "  am  a  stranger  to  your  sweet  and  stolen  inter 
views  with  a  certain  gentle,  blue-eyed,  mysterious  youth  ? 
Think  you  that  I  am  your  laughing-stock  and  your  dupe  ? 
Hath  your  effrontery  grown  to  such  a  height  that  you  defy  me 
to  the  teeth,  with  your  saintly  heroics  touching  the  fair  Puritan  ? 
Shame  on  you,  shame,  Master  Maudsley  !  " 

A  sudden  light  broke  upon  Maudsley's  mind  as  the  knight 
gave  utterance  to  these  taunts.  He  stood  for  an  instant  bewil 
dered,  and  hardly  knowing  what  to  reply,  or  whither  this  strange 
interview  was  tending.  He  was  far  from  suspecting  the  real 
cause  of  Gardiner's  singular  forbearance  even  now,  although  so 
suddenly  enlightened  as  to  a  part  of  the  mysteries  which  had 

VOL.   II.  9 


98  MERRY-MOUNT. 


enveloped  him.  He  replied  not  immediately,  but  stood  leaning 
upon  his  sword,  and  reflecting  for  an  instant  upon  his  course. 

"Fool,  fool,"  muttered  the  knight  to  himself — "  Are  my 
projects,  after  all,  to  be  foiled  by  the  rash  temper  of  this  hot 
headed  boy  1  I  thought  him  already  in  my  power.  Hath  the 
charm  failed?  By  heavens!  it  shall  be  decided,  and  at  once. 
Hark  you,  my  gentle  master,  I  have  a  word  for  your  most  secret 
ear,"  said  he  aloud. 

"  And  fear  you,"  said  Maudsley,  "  that  yonder  crows  will 
prate  of  your  secret,  that  it  must  be  whispered  in  the  silent 
wilderness  1  " 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  quick-tempered  friend,"  replied  the  knight, 
"  but  there  be  many  words  and  many  matters  which  sound  more 
becomingly  in  a  whisper,  even  though  there  be  no  lurking  ear 
in  the  whole  universe,  save  those  for  whom  they  are  meant. 
Hark  you,  I  say !  " 

With  this,  the  knight  strode  hastily  forward  to  Maudsley,  and 
whispered  in  his  ear  for  half  a  minute. 

Maudsley  started,  as  if  a  serpent  had  stung  him. 

"  Liar  and  villain ! "  he  cried,  almost  beside  himself  with 
fury.  —  "  It  needed  but  this  to  set  my  soul  on  fire.  Defend  your 
self;  for  nothing  human  shall  restrain  me  longer." 

With  this  Maudsley  threw  himself  madly  upon  Sir  Christo 
pher,  who  now  entirely  upon  his  guard,  received  his  onset  with 
perfect  calmness  and  precision.  Maudsley,  by  profession  a 
soldier,  was  daring  and  skilful  with  his  weapon,  but  he  was 
inflamed  by  passion.  Gardiner  was  a  consummate  swordsman, 
and  besides,  was  wary  and  collected.  Finding  that  his  project 
of  making  Maudsley  useful  to  him  had  failed,  the  knight  was 
now  desirous  of  being  relieved  of  the  embarassment  caused  by 
his  presence  in  New  England.  The  -combat  proved  desperate 
but  brief.  Maudsley,  after  a  few  fierce  passes,  which  were  skil 
fully  parried  by  Sir  Christopher,  at  last  by  a  lucky  feint,  pushed 


MERRY-MOUNT.  99 


within  his  adversary's  guard.  His  rapier's  point  was  upon  the 
knight's  breast,  and  it  seemed  that  his  last  and  desperate  thrust 
must  necessarily,  at  that  instant,  terminate  the  adventurer's 
career,  when,  to  his  astonishment  and  rage,  the  treacherous 
blade,  encountering  some  hidden  obstacle,  shivered  at  the  hilt. 
At  the  same  moment  as  he  stood  disconcerted  and  defenceless, 
the  knight  sprang  nimbly  forward  and  passed  his  rapier  through 
his  body.  Maudsley  glared  at  his  foe  with  a  last  look  of  defiance, 
and  fell  to  the  earth  without  uttering  a  sound. 

Sir  Christopher  stood  stock-still  for  a  few  moments,  gazing 
upon  his  prostrate  adversary,  while  a  thousand  dark  emotions 
chased  each  other  across  his  brow. 

'Twas  thy  destiny,"  he  hoarsely  muttered,  "  thy  destiny  and 
mine.  I  swear,  I  sought  to  spare  tliee,  but  thou  shouldest  not 
have  crossed  my  path.  Have  I  not  avoided  thee  as  my  evil 
genius?  My  God  !"  exclaimed  the  knight  in  a  still  more  husky 
tone,  as  he  bent  over  the  fallen  Maudsley,  "  what  a  terrible 
resemblance,  closer  and  more  fearful  even  than  in  life  !  The 
same  haughty  features,  the  same  chestnut  locks.  My  God  !  that 
icy  look,  that  ghastly  resemblance  will  haunt  me  to  my 
grave  !  " 

Muttering  thus  incoherently,  Gardiner  stood  musing  in  that 
terrible  companionship,  till  the  cloudless  midsummer's  sun  was 
nearly  set.  His  level  beams  poured  full  across  the  glassy  cove, 
and  rained  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  spot  where  Maudsley  lay. 
It  was  a  fearful  contrast,  —  that  virgin  wilderness,  that  golden 
summer  sunset,  and  that  scene  of  blood.  Sir  Christopher  Gar 
diner  had  been  familiar  with  scenes  of  violence  even  from  his 
boyhood,  but  there  was  something  appalling  to  him  in  the  soli 
tude  which  had  been  just  profaned  by  the  desperate  affray.  It 
seemed  to  his  heated  imagination,  as  he  gazed  around  him,  as 
if  the  world  had  suddenly  renewed  its  infancy,  and  that  the 


100  MERRY-MOUNT. 


first  murder  had  at  that  instant  been  enacted.  His  brother's 
blood  seemed  to  cry  to  him  from  the  ground.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  as  if  he  felt  the  hot  brand  searing  his  forehead,  and  fled 
from  the  spot  like  the  guilty  and  conscience-stricken  Cain. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  101 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE    SECON7D    APPARITION. 

THE  hermit  of  Shawmut  had  devoted  a  long  summer's  day  to 
a  solitary  excursion  in  the  wilderness.  He  felt  no  fear  in  ram 
bling  to  and  fro,  either  upon  his  bull,  upon  his  feet,  or  in  his 
boat,  for  he  was  regarded  with  considerable  reverence  by  the 
natives,  with  whom  he  occasionally  came  in  contact,  and  to  whom 
his  skill  in  pharmacy  had  often  rendered  essential  service.  He 
was  indeed,  as  was  natural,  looked  up  to  by  those  scattered  and 
benighted  creatures,  as  a  being  not  belonging  to  earth,  and  pos 
sessed  of  superior  attributes  to  mortals.  His  striking,  and  almost 
ethereal  appearance,  his  solitary  habits,  and  his  abstracted  and 
dreamy  manner,  contributed  not  a  little  to  encourage  this  belief. 

That  morning,  he  had  been  tempted  by  a  summer's  breeze  to 
put  fortli  in  his  little  skiff,  which  experience  had  taught  him  to 
manage  with  great  adroitness.  He  had,  after  tossing  about  for 
an  idle  hour  or  two  upon  the  billows  of  the  cove,  amused  him 
self  by  entering  the  mouth  of  the  river  which  discharges  itself 
into  the  bay  nearly  opposite  his  abode. 

The  slow  and  tortuous  Quinobequin,  as  the  River  Charles  was 
then  more  properly  called,  which,  as  Captain  John  Smith  had 
already  informed  the  world,  "  doth  pierce  many  days'  journey 
into  the  entrails  of  that  country,"  was  a  river  whose  calm,  deep, 
almost  stagnant,  and  at  the  same  time  highly  erratic  character, 
was  singularly  in  harmony  with  that  of  the  profound,  wandering, 
gentle,  unimpassioned  hermit,  who,  first  of  civilized  beings,  then 
dwelt  upon  its  banks.  A  brawling,  shallow,  headlong  stream, 
now  whirling  through  gravelly  ravines,  now  dashing  down  preci- 
9* 


102  MERRY-MOUNT. 


pices  of  granite,  would  have  been  no  fitting  companion  for  the 
exile.  Blaxton  thought,  as  he  idly  floated  up  the  long  reaches,  or 
rowed  himself  against  the  lazy  current,  in  the  short,  sudden  coils, 
by  which  the  river  incessantly  seemed  doubling  in  its  languid 
course,  that  the  stream  was  a  fit  emblem  of  himself.  Winding 
noiselessly  and  obscurely  to  and  fro  among  the  wbods  arid 
meadows,  the  river  flowed  calmly  along,  with  scarce  an  eddy 
upon  its  glassy  surface,  silent,  but  deep,  hesitating,  meandering, 
and  yet,  after  leagues  of  its  serpentine  motion,  accomplishing  so 
little,  that  a  child  in  a  few  bounds  might  measure  the  whole 
length  of  its  actual  progress  towards  its  goal. 

Still,  within  its  unruffled  depths  were  ever  mirrored  Nature's 
freshest  charms.  The  forest-crowned  hills  came  from  afar  to 
bathe  themselves  in  its  tranquil  flood,  the  serene  heaven,  with  its 
floating  clouds,  the  silver  majesty  of  the  moon,  the  countless 
troops  of  stars,  and  even  the  effulgence  of  the  day-god  himself, 
were  daily  and  nightly  reflected  in  its  placid  bosom.  And  was 
not  this  a  compensation  for  the  absence  of  that  restless  energy 
which  would  have  hurried  it  faster  to  the  eternal  sea,  but  would 
have  shivered  its  transparent  surface  into  a  thousand  fragments, 
and  rendered  its  nature  tumultuous  and  troubled? 

Thus  mused  the  contemplative  solitary,  as  hour  after  hour  he 
loitered  in  his  bark  along  that  solitary  stream.  Although  gentle 
and  quiet,  there  was  still  variety  in  his  inland  voyage.  Here, 
the  river  coiled  itself,  like  a  silver  snake,  through  a  wide  ex 
panse  of  meadow,  where,  if  he  stepped  ashore,  the  rank  grass, 
unconscious  of  the  scythe,  grew  higher  than  his  breast.  Anon, 
he  floated  into  a  more  secluded  reach,  where  the  stream  dilated 
for  a  moment  to  a  mimic  bay,  where  his  oar  would  disturb  a  fleet 
of  anchored  wood-ducks.  Again,  as  the  river  narrowed  itself 
within  its  banks,  a  grey  and  decaying  trunk  of  some  fallen  tree 
would  almost  obstruct  his  passage,  from  which  the  basking 
turtle  would  drop  hastily  and  heavily  into  the  stream,  or  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  1Q3 


headlong  frogs  dash  themselves  off  in  nimble  and  grotesque 
alarm.  At  times,  his  course  lay  through  broad  and  level  mead 
ows,  where  grew  only  the  ringletted  and  drooping  elms,  the 
most  graceful,  the  most  feminine,  and  the  most  fragile  of  trees; 
and  which,  sometimes  like  verdant  fountains-,  sometimes  like 
foliage-wreathed  urns,  sometimes  like  bending,  graceful,  sud 
denly  metamorphosed  nymphs,  with  their  green  tresses  sweeping 
the  ground,  stood,  singly  or  in  detached  and  picturesque  groups, 
along  the  moist  and  open  meads.  Again,  the  river  would  lose 
itself  beneath  shadowy  and  deeply  wooded  banks,  where  the 
tangled  forest  grew  close  to  the  water's  edge,  where  the  various 
melody  of  summer  birds  was  never  silent,  where  the  whir  of  the 
strong-winged  partridge  would  fall  suddenly  upon  the  ear,  where 
the  slender  deer  would  steal  timidly  forth  to  slake  its  thirst  at 
the  river's  brink,  or  the  grim  figure  of  the  brown,  indolent  bear 
would  appear  for  an  instant  through  the  thick  curtain  of  the 
midsummer  foliage.  There,  the  maple,  the  birch,  the  alder, 
and  the  oak,  were  all  matted  together,  in  intricate  luxuriance, 
and  the  hermit  would  often  pause  to  contemplate  some  Laocoon- 
like  group  of  mighty  trees,  entangled,  interlaced  and  suffocated 
in  the  vast  coils  of  some  serpent-like  grape-vine.  A  thousand 
flowers  of  brilliant  hues,  decorated  his  lonely  progress.  Immense 
fields  of  the  strong  and  tangled  pickerel-weed,  with  its  broad 
lotus-like  leaves  and  flaunting  flowers,  now  clogged  his  pathway  ; 
and  now,  a  multitude  of  white  and  fragrant  water-lilies  throng 
ing  around  his  bark,  like  troops  of  amorous,  odor-breathing 
water-nymphs,  seemed  to  woo  him  to  repose.  The  delicate 
arrow-head,  with  its  spikes  of  pale  and  tender  blossoms,  the 
intensely  brilliant  cardinal  flower,  which  looked  as  if  it  should 
be  transplanted  to  some  ancient  cathedral  window-pane,  where 
placed  upon  the  bosom  of  some  gorgeous  saint,  its  vivid  crimson 
should  reflect  the  sunlight  for  ages;  the  stately  enpatorium,  the 
fragrant  azalea,  the  gaudy  sunflower,  and  a  host  of  other  name- 


104  MERRY-MOUNT. 


less  weeds,  grew  in  rank  and  tangled  confusion  along  the  oozy 
bank. 

The  hermit  moved  slowly  along  his  watery  path,  solacing  him 
self  with  the  accurate  observation  of  nature,  which  was  the 
business  of  his  life,  ever  and  anon  pausing  to  cull  his  simples, 
to  collect  his  herbs  and  flowers,  with  which  his  little  canoe  was 
already  amply  freighted ;  now  losing  himself  in  the  vague  reve 
ries,  which  he  so  dearly  loved,  and  now  pausing  under  the 
shadow  of  some  spreading  tree,  to  take  from  his  scrip  and  hastily 
to  consume  his  slender  repast. 

Thus,  upon  noiseless  wings,  flew  the  golden  hours  of  that 
summer's  day.  Towards  nightfall,  the  solitary  had  returned 
from  his  excursion,  and  anchored  his  bark  close  to  his  cottage. 
Entering  his  humble  dwelling-place,  he  busied  himself  a  long 
time  in  assorting  the  additions  which  he  had  that  day  made  to 
his  collections  of  natural  history.  When  he  was  at  last  wearied 
of  his  task,  he  knelt  down  and  offered  up  a  prayer  of  gratitude 
to  Him  who  thus  sustained  his  faltering  steps  in  that  remote 
\Xsolitude.  He  then  turned  over  the  leaves  of  his  Bible,  ponder 
ing  as  he  read.  The  hours  stole  on,  the  slow-moving  finger 
of  his  clock  already  pointed  to  midnight,  his  eyelids  were 
already  heavy  with  sleep,  when  the  vast  silence  around  him  was 
suddenly  broken  by  a  fearful  shriek.  The  hermit  started  to  his 
feet,  the  scream  seemed  to  pierce  his  heart.  He  hurried  to  the 
window  and  looked  out  upon  the  night.  All  was  quiet,  serene 
and  starry.  The  scream  was  not  repeated,  and  for  an  instant 
the  solitary  again  strove  to  persuade  himself  that  he  had  been 
deluded  by  his  imagination.  Sleep,  however,  had  been  scared 
for  a  season  from  his  eyelids,  and  he  sat  listening  to  the  loud 
beating  of  his  own  heart,  and  in  anxious  expectation  of  a  repe 
tition  of  the  vision  which  had  once  before  so  much  agitated 
him. 

He  was  not  mistaken.     Within   a  very  few  minutes,  which, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  105 

however,  had  appeared  to  be  ages,  there  was  a  noise  without  as 
of  a  stealthy  step.  Blaxton  sprang  to  the  window  again,  and,  as 
he  did  so,  actually  confronted  the  same  mournful  face,  which 
had  once  before  visited  him  at  the  dead  of  night.  Exactly,  as 
upon  the  previous  occasion,  the  vision  was  of  one  very  dear  to 
him,  who  had  been  long  laid  in  the  grave.  The  beautiful  face, 
with  its  deep  prophetic  eyes,  was  in  startling  proximity  to  his 
own,  and  looked  in  upon  his  midnight  solitude  with  an  expres 
sion  of  terror  and  of  warning.  He  staggered  backwards  a  few 
paces,  overcome  by  the  suddenness  of  the  apparition.  He 
recovered  himself,  however,  very  soon,  by  a  powerful  effort,  but 
the  face  had  already  vanished  from  the  window.  He  rushed 
from  the  house  into  the  midnight  air,  and  as  he  did  so,  he 
distinctly  saw  a  figure  gliding  among  the  trees  across  his  lawn. 
It  seemed  to  bend  its  course  towards  the  water's  edge,  and  to 
pause  when  very  near  the  beach.  As  it  paused,  Blaxton  thought 
he  heard  a  repetition  of  the  scream  which  had  at  first  alarmed 
him,  but  it  was  so  much  fainter  as  to  be  almost  inaudible. 

Impelled  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  he  followed  unhesitatingly 
in  the  pathway  of  the  mysterious  figure,  as  it  rapidly  glided 
before  him.  After  a  moment's  pause,  however,  at  a  particular 
spot  upon  the  beach,  the  vision  seemed  suddenly  to  fade  away. 
Whether  it  was  a  figure  of  flesh  and  blood,  which  had  evaded 
his  pursuit  by  a  sudden  retreat  through  the  briery  swamp,  which 
bounded  his  domain  upon  the  south-west,  the  hermit  could  not 
tell.  In  an  instant,  he  had  reached  the  spot  where  it  had  dis 
appeared,  but  he  could  discover,  however  eagerly  he  strained  his 
eyes  in  every  direction,  no  further  traces  of  its  presence. 
While  he  stood  agitated,  and  pondering  upon  the  meaning  of 
this  second  mysterious  visitation,  he  suddenly  heard  a  faint 
groan.  It  seemed  to  proceed  from  the  ground,  and  almost  from 
beneath  his  feet.  He  stooped  to  search  in  the  dim  starlight, 
and  amid  the  rank  grass,  for  the  cause  of  this  singular  sound, 


106  MERRY-MOUNT. 


when  to  his  astonishment  and  horror  he  became  aware  of  the 
presence  of  a  corpse  lying  seemingly  stark  and  stiff  almost  at 
his  feet. 

There  seemed  now  to  be  some  cause  for  the  various  mysteries 
which  had  lately  so  perplexed  him.  Why  he  had  been  thus 
visited,  and  what  was  to  be  the  result  of  these  apparitions,  he 
knew  not,  but  he  felt  a  vague  terror  taking  possession  of  him, 
as  he  stood  there  in  that  midnight  solitude,  with  that  ghastly 
companion. 

The  phenomena  of  the  heavens  which  had  exerted  so  keen 
an  influence  upon  his  imagination,  a  short  time  before,  he  had 
in  a  measure  interpreted.  The  vision  of  the  aerial  ships  he  had 
explained  by  the  arrival  of  the  Naumkeak  colony  soon  after 
wards  ;  and  now  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  phantom  sword  had 
portended  the  scene  of  violence  and  bloodshed,  which  appeared 
so  recently  to  have  been  enacted  near  his  own  threshold.  His 
thoughts,  which  were  wandering  into  infinite  space,  were,  how 
ever,  suddenly  recalled  to  earth  again,  by  a  repetition  of  the 
groan.  His  sympathies  were  at  once  aroused,  and  bending  over 
the  prostrate  form  of  Maudsley,  he  discovered,  by  the  faint 
beating  of  his  heart,  that  life  was  not  wholly  extinct.  Without 
hesitating  any  longer,  and  exerting  all  his  strength,  he  lifted 
the  body  from  the  ground,  and  bore  it  with  difficulty  to  his 
cottage. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  JQ7 


CHAPTER,   IX. 

ENDICOTT    AT    NAUMKEAK. 

MANY  weeks  had  passed  away.  It  was  now  early  in  No 
vember,  and  the  hundred  emigrants  who,  two  months  before  had 
arrived  with  Governor  Endicott  in  the  good  ship  Abigail,  were 
now  established  at  Naurnkeak.  That  narrow  tongue  of  land, 
covered  with  thick  forests  up  to  that  epoch,  and  tenanted  only 
by  the  two  or  three  scattered  families,  of  whom  these  pages  have 
already  spoken,  had  already  undergone  a  considerable  change. 

Walter  Ludlow's  solitary  residence  was  now  upon  the  skirts 
of  a  little  village.  It  was,  to  be  sure,  a  village  of  but  a  dozen 
thatched  and  mud-walled  hovels,  and  had  been  constructed  with 
great  rapidity  during  the  autumn,  that  the  emigrants  might 
have  some  refuge  against  the  rigors  of  their  first  Massachusetts 
winter. 

Although  the  coming  winter  had  allowed,  as  yet,  but  few 
prognostics  of  its  severity  to  be  felt,  although  the  climate  still 
seemed  tolerably  mild,  yet  the  sufferings  of  the  settlers  had  already 
begun.  The  scurvy  raged  among  them  like  a  pestilence,  fevers 
and  inflammatory  disorders,  induced  by  low  diet  and  exposure 
to  a  new  and  treacherous  climate,  had  already  assaulted  almost 
every  family,  and  in  the  immediate  future  the  icy  spectre  of  the 
approaching  winter,  the  gaunt  image  of  impending  famine,  rose 
before  them,  not  like  threatening  phantoms,  but  as  terrible 
realities. 

In  the  centre  of  the  little  extemporaneous  village,  stood  a  man 
sion  of  much  more  considerable  dimensions  than  the  huts  which 
surrounded  it.  A  two-storied  house,  consisting  of  a  skeleton  of 


108  MERRY-MOUNT. 


timber-work,  filled  in  with  bricks,  and  having  a  projecting  roof, 
which  was  covered  with  red  tiles,  was  the  most  prominent  object 
upon  the  clearing.  The  materials  out  of  which  this  edifice  had 
been  constructed  had  been  brought  from  Cape  Ann. 

Within  the  lower  apartment  of  that  dwelling  were  assembled 
several  persons  of  grave  and  earnest  appearance.  A  frugal  mid 
day  meal  had  just  been  partaken  of  by  the  company,  who  were 
of  both  sexes,  and  a  conversation  upon  serious  and  important 
matters  had  succeeded  to  the  repast.  At  the  upper  end  of  the 
board  sat  a  person  of  striking  appearance;  and  yet  he  was 
neither  handsome  in  countenance  nor  commanding  in  figure. 
The  man  was  a  little  under  middle  age  and  a  little  above  middle 
stature.  He  wore  a  Geneva  skull-cap,  a  doublet  of  dark-colored 
serge,  with  a  broad  linen  collar  falling  over  it,  and  other  habili 
ments  of  so  grave  a  character,  that  he  might  have  been  easily  taken 
for  a  clergyman,  had  it  not  been  observed  that  his  hand  rested 
habitually  and  rather  caressingly  upon  the  iron  handle  of  his  long 
rapier,  and  had  not  the  bold  expression  of  his  features  and  the 
restless  glancing  of  his  eye,  forbidden  the  supposition.  The 
lines  of  his  face  were  stern  and  energetic,  but  somewhat  harsh 
and  heavy.  The  short  grizzly  locks,  the  heavy  moustache 
and  chin-beard  of  iron  grey,  the  decided  brow,  the  inflexible 
mouth,  were  all  expressive  of  command.  It  was  the  physi 
ognomy  rather  of  a  man  of  action,  than  of  a  profound  thinker, 
and  yet  there  was  much  in  its  character  which  was  deliberate, 
earnest  and  imposing.  Altogether,  the  whole  appearance  of 
the  personage  who  sat  at  the  head  of  that  humble  board,  gave 
assurance  of  a  man. 

This  was  Captain  John  Endicott,  the  man  who  had  been  in 
trusted  by  the  newly  organized  Massachusetts  company  with  the 
command  of  the  first  emigration,  and  who  had  thus  far  wisely 
and  resolutely  conducted  their  affairs. 

"  You  understand  me  then,  thoroughly,  Master  Conant,"  said 


MERRY-MOUNT.  JQ9 


he,  addressing  a  grave  and  hardy  looking  personage  who  sat  near 
him,  who  was  the  most  prominent  of  the  few  brave  and  persever 
ing  settlers  who  had  preceded  Endicott's  arrival  at  Naumkeak. 
"  You  understand  my  views,  and  that  of  the  company  whom  I 
represent,  entirely?" 

"  Truly,  Master  Endicott,  I  think  we  have  at  last  arrived 
at  a  settlement  of  all  disputes,"  replied  Conant,  "  and  I  rejoice 
that  all  our  differences  are  fairly  healed." 

"The  company,  which  has  been  organized  for  a  great  and 
sacred  purpose,  is  determined  to  send  hither  none  but  pious,  or 
derly  and  energetic  men/'  continued  Endicott;  "  and  to  send  no 
idle  drones,  neither  to  permit  any  such  to  remain  within  the 
limits  of  their  patent." 

"  I  believe  you  have  effectually  destroyed  one  nest  of  hornets," 
answered  Conant,  "  by  your  late  expedition  across  the  bay." 

"Aye,  there  needed  but  little  deliberation  to  crush  such  a 
swarm  of  caterpillars,"  answered  Endicott,  "  and  I  am  truly  be 
holden  to  our  neighbors  of  Plymouth,  and  to  their  trusty  captain, 
Master  Standish,  for  his  well  executed  capture  of  the  master 
mischief-maker  of  that  ungodly  crew.  How  called  you  him, 
Master  Conant?" 

"Thomas  Morton,  sometime  a  pettifogger  of  Furnival's  Inn," 
replied  Conant,  "  and  lately  principal  Master  of  Misrule  at  the 
place  he  has  profanely  denominated  Merry-Mount." 

"  And  which  is  henceforth  to  be  denominated  Mount  Dagon," 
answered  Endicott.  "  The  vile  reveller  is  disposed  of,  and  the 
places  that  knew  him  shall  know  him  no  more.  I  have  dispersed 
his  infamous  crew,  and  have  cut  down  the  idolatrous  May-pole, 
with  which  he  dared  to  profane  this  pure  and  sacred  wilderness." 

"  Aye,"  said  Conant,  "  it  was  almost  your  first  deed  in  New 
England,  and  a  worthy  commencement  of  your  career.  The 
place  was  a  den  of  infamy,  and  a  rallying  point  for  loose  vaga 
bonds  and  peace-breakers,  for  hundreds  of  miles  around." 

VOL.   II.  10 


110  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"I  had  a  deeper  motive  even  than  the  promotion  of  peace  and 
order,  by  my  immediate  invasion  of  Mount  Dagon,"  said  Endi- 
cott.  "  I  am  now  awaiting  instructions  from  the  company,  touch 
ing  many  matters.  I  am,  however,  already  enjoined  to  assume 
immediate  possession  of  all  the  important  points,  particularly  the 
maritime  points,  within  the  patent,  and  to  expel,  at  once,  all  per 
sons  who  are  not  instantaneously  obedient  to  my  authority. 
These  orders  I  intend  to  execute,  and  promptly  too,"  he  con 
cluded,  slightly  pounding  the  floor  with  his  sword  as  he  spoke. 

"  The  expedition  of  the  three  Spragues  is,  I  believe,  already 
successful,"  said  Conant. 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Endicott.  "  It  was  all-important  to  occupy  the 
peninsula  of  Mishawum,  both  from  its  natural  advantages,  and 
because  it  is  the  key  to  the  whole  portion  of  the  territory  claimed 
by  a  busy  faction  in  England,  which  is  adverse  to  the  company. 
The  three  brothers  have  acted  promptly.  They  found  a  solitary 
tenant  upon  the  peninsula,  a  loose,  depraved  fellow,  they  tell  me, 
Walford  by  name,  and  a  blacksmith  by  trade.  Do  you  chance 
to  know  him,  Master  Conant?" 

"  I  know  but  little  concerning  him,"  was  the  reply ;  "  a 
bold  fellow  enough,  and  a  hardy  pioneer,  but  restless,  I  be 
lieve,  and  uncomfortable,  and  more  than  all,  a  boon  compan 
ion  of  Master  Morton.  What  said  he  to  the  Spragues?" 

"  He  said  nothing  to  the  Spragues,"  answered  Endicott, 
"  saving  that  the  peninsula  of  Mishawum  belonged  to  him,  both 
by  right  of  occupation,  and  by  grant  from  the  lawful  possses- 
sors  of  the  soil.  He  refused  to  acknowledge  the  authority  of 
the  Massachusetts  Company,  or  to  have  any  dealings  whatever 
with  us." 

"  He  claims  the  peninsula  of  Mishawum  under  lease  from  one 
Oldham,"  said  Walter  Ludlow,  who  was  present  at  the  meeting, 
but  who  had  not  yet  spoken. 

"Oldham,  Walford,  Morton,  and  howsoever  else  they  may 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


be  called,"  answered  Endicott,  "  are  all  but  creatures  of  the 
Gorges  family.  'T  is  a  proud  and  powerful  race,  and  their  chief, 
or  rather  the  most  energetic  among  them,  is  Sir  Ferdinando 
Gorges.  He  is  known  to  have  many  agents  scattered  about  in 
the  wilderness,  under  assumed  names,  and  please  God,  I  intend 
to  scatter  them  all  to  the  four  winds.  For  what  said  Moab  unto 
the  elders  of  Midian  :  'This  company  shall  lick  up  all  that  are 
round  about  us,  as  the  ox  licketh  up  the  grass  of  the  field.'  " 

"  There  may  yet  be  trouble  from  the  efforts  of  John  Oldham, 
who  hath  so  lately  gone  for  England,"  resumed  Roger  Conant. 

"  Never  fear,  Master  Conant,"  answered  the  governor,  "  the 
charter  is  as  good  as  passed  ;  but  there  is  one  measure  now  in 
contemplation,  which  is  likely  to  assure  the  prosperity  of  the 
colony  beyond  all  peradventure,  and  to  place  it  entirely  above 
all  the  efforts  of  its  enemies." 

"  And  what  may  that  be?  "  asked  several  of  the  company  in 
a  breath. 

"  It  is  yet  a  profound  secret  in  England,"  answered  Endicott, 
"  but  I  see  no  reason  why  it  should  be  not  confided  to  our  discreet 
and  trustworthy  associates  here.  Know,  then,  that  it  is  contem 
plated  by  many  of  the  most  eminent  and  most  wealthy  members 
of  the  Massachusetts  Company  in  England,  not  only  to  embark 
a  portion  of  their  worldly  goods  in  this  adventure,  but  to  do  a 
far  greater  thing." 

"  And  that  is  to  visit  the  country  in  person,  perhaps  1  "  said 
Conant. 

"  Aye,  to  visit  the  country,"  answered  Endicott,  "  and  to 
leave  their  own  forever.  If  the  effort  to  obtain  the  charter  be 
successful,  of  which  I  entertain  not  a  doubt,  the  next  move  will 
be  to  obtain,  either  silently  or  explicitly,  the  royal  permission  to 
transplant  that  very  charter  to  the  wilderness.  In  case  the  right 
is  obtained,  a  large  number  stand  engaged  to  transplant  them 
selves  hither.  The  worthy  Winthrop,  of  Suffolk,  hath  re- 


1 12  MERRY-MOUNT. 


solved,  in  this  event,  to  convert  his  manor  of  Groton  into 
money,  and  to  embark  with  all  his  family  and  all  his  worldly 
goods  for  America.  Many  of  the  Lincolnshire  folk  have  taken 
the  same  resolution." 

"  These  be  good  tidings  indeed,"  said  Conant  and  others, 
"  and  I  rejoice  as  unfeignedly  as  even  you  could  do.  Truly, 
when  I  first  heard  of  the  formation  of  the  new  company,  my  mind 
did  much  misgive  me,  whether  we  old  planters  might  not  be 
likely  to  suffer  some  injustice  at  their  hands.  Thanks  to  your 
upright  and  Christian  conduct,  however,  Master  Endicott,  we 
have  exchanged  the  spirits  of  heaviness  for  the  garments  of  joy." 

The  conversation  now  turned  on  many  local  topics.  The 
arrangements  to  be  made  by  the  company  touching  land  allot 
ments,  ministers'  support,  and  the  beaver  monopoly  were  dis 
cussed,  upon  all  which  points  Endicott  made  satisfactory  state 
ments  to  the  old  planters. 

"  And  pray,  Master  Governor,"  said  a  withered  little  old  man, 
who  sat  near  Roger  Conant,  "  doth  the  company  reserve  to 
itself  likewise  a  monopoly  of  tobacco  ?" 

"  No,  Goodman  Musselthvvaite,"  answered  Endicott,  "  al 
though  the  company  disapprove  of  the  planting ;  firstly,  because 
they  do  account  it  a  pernicious  weed,  and  secondly,  because  the 
profits  upon  it  are  likely  to  be  but  small ;  yet  they  are  disposed  to 
be  indulgent  in  this  respect  to  the  old  settlers,  if  tobacco  plant 
ing  be  by  them  considered  necessary  to  their  proper  sustenance 
and  comfort." 

"  Aha !  this  is,  indeed,  generous  and  equitable,"  said  Good 
man  Musselthwaite,  whipping  out  a  tobacco  pipe  as  he  spoke, 
which  he  proceeded  very  deliberately  to  light.  "  Tobacco, 
worthy  Master  Governor,  is  meat,  drink,  and  feather-beds  to  us 
rusty  old  pioneers  of  the  wilderness.  Without  tobacco,  look  ye, 
it  is  hard  to  be  fat  and  comfortable,  with  one's  head  upon  the 
same  pillow  with  a  wild  cat's." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  H3 


"Or  with  tobacco  either,"  returned  Endicott,  looking  gravely 
at  the  parched  and  shrivelled  physiognomy  of  the  old  planter; 
"  hovvbeit,  the  company  hath  determined  to  forbid  the  cultivation 
of  the  weed  to  all,  save  only  the  old  planters.  They  are  to  be 
permitted  to  raise  the  vegetable  for  their  own  consumption  and 
for  exportation,  but  it  is  upon  no  account  to  be  sold  within  the 
limits  of  the  patent,  being  considered  by  the  government  of  the 
company  as  contrary  to  good  health  and  good  morals." 

"Truly,  you  surprise  me,  worthy  Master  Governor,"  ejacu 
lated  Goodman  Musselthwaite,  with  a  whiff  of  astonishment  and 
tobacco  smoke  —  "  I  regret  to  learn  at  this  time  and  season,  that 
my  health  and  morals  are  in  so  perilous  a  condition,  for  I  could 
find  it  easier  in  my  heart  to  forswear  board  and  lodging  than  my 
tobacco-pipe." 

"  Forgive  me,  Goodman  Musselthwaite,"  returned  Endicott, 
"  I  am  enjoined  to  forbid  the  use  of  the  weed  to  the  new  comers 
only,  saving  and  excepting  ancient  men,  and  such  others  as  may 
through  illness  occasionally  require  it." 

"  I  hold  that  the  company  is  wise  in  these  regulations,"  replied 
Roger  Conant,  "  and  I  am  well  pleased  that  you  have  been 
enjoined  to  have  regard  to  the  private  morals  and  manners  of 
the  colonists,  the  rather  that  such  things  have  necessarily  been 
much  neglected  in  this  wilderness." 

"  Ye  can  assist  me  in  many  respects  therein,"  answered  Endi 
cott.  "Observe  well  the  morals  of  those  in  your  immediate 
neighborhood.  See  that  no  loose  habits  be  tolerated  for  an 
instant.  Govern  all  the  sinfully  inclined  with  a  rod  of  iron. 
Smite  them  hip  and  thigh.  Above  all,  tolerate  no  new-fangled 
heresies  in  religious  matters.  We  have  sought  the  wilderness 
to  build  up  altars  upon  the  true  and  only  model.  Demolish  all 
other  altars,  should  any  such  be  raised." 

"  The  company,  then,"  said  Walter  Ludlow,  "  are  not  in- 
10* 


W.//U*"' 
114  MERRY-MOUNT. 


clined,  I  perceive,  to  a  toleration   of  the  various  forms  of  the 
Christian  religion." 

"  May  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  forbid,"  thundered  Endicott, 
indignant  at  the  very  idea  of  toleration.  "I  tell  ye  all  that  there 
is  but  one  road  to  heaven,  but  ten  thousand  ones  to  hell.  All 
they  who  live  under  my  authority,  please  God,  shall  travel  the 
right  path.  We  have  not  undertaken  this  great  business  that 
we  might  erect  a  general  haberdashery  shop,  where  every  cant 
ing  coxcomb  or  fribbling  madam  might  purchase  a  new  fash 
ioned  religion  every  day  to  suit  their  sickly  fancy.  No,  Master 
Ludlow;  keep  a  strict  watch  upon  the  restive  imaginations  and 
frothy  consciences  of  the  novelty  seekers.  Cooper  them  up, 
and  that  roundly  and  soundly,  my  worthy  friends,  with  the 
strong  hoops  of  comfortable  coercion.  Otherwise,  these  effer 
vescent  and  yeasty  consciences  will  explode  every  day,  to  the 
manifest  detriment  of  our  infant  commonwealth." 

"  And  so  I  understand,"  said  Ludlow,  '*  that  you  hold  by  the 
Geneva  creed,  and  that  you  are  not  inclined  to  recognise  fellow 
ship  any  longer  with  the  Church  of  England." 

"  Most  truly,"  replied  Endicott,  with  continued  sternness  of 
manner,  "  and  of  all  matters  which  do  most  move  my  spleen, 
Master  Ludlow,  the  chief  is  that  mischievous  vice  which  men 
call  toleration.  No,  no,  my  good  friend,  tolerate  me  no  tolera 
tion.  Put  the  noses  of  all  recusants  to  the  grindstone,  and 
sharpen  them,  if  you  can,  till  they  have  a  keener  scent  for  the 
road  which  leadeth  to  heaven.  If  that  will  not  serve  their  turn, 
why,  even  grind  them  off  as  soon  as  may  be." 

A  general  approval  of  these  sentiments,  so  dogmatically  laid 
down  by  the  doughty  governor,  was  manifested  by  a  grave 
shaking  of  heads  and  wagging  of  beards,  by  his  sad  garmented, 
earnest  looking  companions. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  1 J  5 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    PESTILENCE. 

THERE  was  a  slight  pause  in  the  conversation,  during  which 
a  person  entered  the  room,  and  whispered  to  Endicott,  and  then 
to  Esther  Ludlow,  who  had  been  sitting  all  this  time,  listening  in 
attentive  silence  to  what  was  going  forward.  As  soon  as  the 
person  had  communicated  his  message,  she  arose  from  her  seat, 
and  quietly  left  the  room. 

A  shade  passed  over  the  stern  brow  of  the  governor,  and  his 
iron  features  seemed  to  be  moved  by  a  momentary  convulsion. 
The  emotion,  however,  whatever  it  was,  seemed  to  be  instantly 
suppressed,  and  he  shortly  afterwards  resumed  his  conversation 
with  his  companions. 

"Look  ye,  Master  Conant,  and  you,  Master  Ludlow,"  said  he, 
"  these  be  blank  register  books,  which,  at  the  company's  request, 
I  propose  shall  be  kept  in  every  family  of  the  colony.  I  pur 
pose  to  appoint  an  overseer  to  each  family,  whose  duty  it  shall 
be  to  keep  an  authentic  history  of  each  day's  business.  Idle 
ness  is  the  mother  of  mischief,  Master  Ludlow,  and  I  mean  that 
every  hour  of  every  day  shall  be  chronicled,  with  the  employ 
ment  and  the  amount  of  work  of  each  member  of  each  family, 
from  the  father  down  to  the  youngest  child.  I  purpose  that 
every  child  born  in  the  colony  shall  be  brought  up  to  some  use 
ful  occupation,  whereby  he  will  be  more  likely  to  obey  his  spir 
itual  instructors,  and  to  walk  in  the  way  of  the  Lord.  I  intend, 
by  means  of  these  registers,  that  the  governor  arid  the  council 
shall  at  any  moment  be  able  to  read  the  lives  and  the  characters 
of  every  man,  woman  or  child,  who  live  under  their  authority. 


116  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Thus  shall  the  patriarchal  days  of  the  old  world  be  restored,  and 
sin,  thus  busily  watched  for,  shall  be  scared  out  of  our  infant 
community." 

So  saying,  the  governor  gravely  distributed  to  Conant,  Lud- 
low  and  to  others,  whom  he  had  appointed  overseers,  the  regis 
ters,  in  which  the  history  of  the  little  colony  was  thus  minutely 
and  daily  to  be  recorded. 

"  I  believe,"  continued  he,  "  that  the  objects  of  our  present 
meeting,  which  were  duly  to  discuss  all  matters  which  might 
create  difference  between  the  old  planters  and  the  new,  have  at 
last  been  satisfactorily  adjusted." 

"Even  so,"  answered  Conant,  "the  company  hath  been  wise 
and  fortunate,  both  in  their  prudent  resolutions,  and  in  their 
selection  of  so  discreet  and  upright  an  agent  as  Master  Endi- 
cott." 

"I  furthermore  propose,"  said  the  governor,  "in  view  of  this 
peaceful  settlement  of  all  difficulties,  of  this  happy  termination 
of  all  heart-burnings  between  the  new  comers  and  their  prede 
cessors,  to  baptize  this  spot  of  the  wilderness  by  a  new  name. 
Nahumkeak  is  its  present  denomination,  in  the  barbarous  lan 
guage  of  a  barbarous  people." 

"  So  is  it  called,"  replied  Walter  Ludlow,  "but  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  the  term,  even  like  these  wandering  tribes  them 
selves,  is  of  Hebrew  origin.  I  am  not  altogether  unskilled  in 
that  tongue,  in  which  the  blessed  Scriptures  were  first  promul 
gated,  and  I  find  there  an  apt  and  happy  derivation  for  the  word 
by  which  this  wilderness  spot  hath  hitherto  been  known." 

"  And  what  may  that  be,  Master  Ludlow  ? "  asked  the 
Governor. 

'*  Nahumkeak,"  continued  Ludlow,  "  deriveth  plainly  from 
two  Hebrew  words,  which,  being  interpreted,  signify  the  haven 
or  the  bosom  of  consolation,  and  a  pleasanter  or  more  pro 
phetic  designation  than  this,  I  could  not  desire  for  our  new 
settlement." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  H7 


"  And  so  think  I,"  said  Roger  Conant,  "  and  I  confess  a 
desire  to  retain  the  term  endeared  to  us  by  a  long  period  of 
suffering." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  propose  to  change  it,"  returned  Endicott,  in 
a  somewhat  peremptory  and  arbitrary  manner,  "  and  henceforth 
I  propose  that  it  shall  be  called  the  City  of  Salem,  in  memory 
of  the  covenant  of  peace,  this  day  concluded  between  the  new 
comers  and  the  ancient  planters.  '  In  Salem  is  my  tabernacle, 
and  in  Zion  is  my  dwelling-place,  saith  the  Lord.'  " 

"  Be  it  as  you  will,"  said  Ludlow,  "  although  I  should  be 
even  as  well  contented  to  know  my  old  resting-place  by  its  old 
name." 

"I  could  be  as  well  content  likewise,"  said  Conant,  "and  do 
desire  to  have  no  hand  in  changing  its  appellation.  Neverthe 
less,  I  say  with  Master  Ludlow,  be  it  as  you  will.  Peace  is,  at 
least,  happily  established  among  us." 

"  And  therefore  shall  it  be  commemorated  by  this  new  and 
sacred  name,"  said  the  governor,  "  and  so  no  more  of  these 
matters." 

"  Verily,"  said  the  withered  little  man,  who  had  been  puffing 
his  pipe  in  solemn  silence,  during  this  long  session,  and  whose 
voice  now  sounded  like  the  boding  raven's,  "  verily,  I  marvel 
that  ye  should  discuss  the  prospects  of  this  little  colony  so 
closely.  The  pestilence  walketh  among  us  by  noon-day,  and 
assuredly  the  ill-starred  colony  must  perish  speedily." 

"  I  tell  thee,  man,  that  this  colony  shall  never  perish ! " 
thundered  Endicott,  striking  the  ground  fiercely  with  his  sword, 
as  he  spoke.  "No,  although,  as  in  Egypt  of  old,  there  be  not 
a  house  where  there  is  not  one  dead.  No,  let  the  pestilence 
stride  among  us,  let  the  grave  yawn  and  swallow  us.  Still  shall 
this  goodly  work  go  on,  for  the  finger  of  the  Lord  is  in  it.  I 
fear  not  the  savage,  nor  the  winter,  nor  the  pestilence,  and 
under  God,  I  have  sworn  to  fulfil  the  sacred  trust  reposed  in 


118  MERRY-MOUNT. 


me.  I,  even  I,  with  the  blessed  Redeemer's  help,  will  sustain 
this  tottering  load,  and  may  this  right  arm  be  withered,  bone, 
marrow,  arid  muscle,  if  it  doth  not  cheerily  bear  up  the  load 
imposed  upon  it,  so  long  as  this  heart  of  mine  beateth  within 
my  bosom." 

The  stern  and  choleric  Puritan  strode  forth  into  the  middle  of 
the  apartment,  as  he  spoke,  and  looked  around  him  with  flashing 
eyes.  His  rude  but  impressive  figure  seemed  to  dilate  into 
colossal  proportions,  as  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  that  earnest 
group,  looking  and  speaking  almost  like  an  inspired  prophet. 
Stern,  sudden,  choleric,  but  earnest,  undaunted,  untiring,  he 
seemed  more  like  Joshua,  the  son  of  Nun,  rebuking  his  faltering 
followers,  and  invigorating  them  with  his  own  overflowing  inspi 
ration,  than  like  a  mortal  of  earth's  mould. 

"  What  tell  you  me  of  famine,  of  pestilence,  of  danger?"  he 
continued.  "  I  tell  you,  man,  that  my  people  shrink  not,  for 
the  Lord  sustaineth  them,  and  the  road  to  heaven  is  no  nearer 
from  their  fathers'  graves,  than  from  these  frozen  deserts.  But 
should  their  hearts  faint  by  the  wayside,  should  they  cry  to 
me,  even  as  the  children  of  Israel  cried  unto  Moses,  saying, 
because  there  were  no  graves  in  Egypt  hast  thou  taken  us  away  to 
die  in  this  wilderness;  even  then  do  I  feel  that  within  me,  which 
could  lift  them  up  from  the  sloughs  of  despair,  and  sustain  their 
footsteps  even  till  they  reached  the  firm  ground." 

The  withered  little  old  planter,  somewhat  abashed  by  this 
burst  of  fierce  enthusiasm,  which  his  observation  about  the 
pestilence  had  elicited,  seemed  desirous  of  withdrawing  himself 
from  observation  beneath  the  smoke-cloulds  which  he  furiously 
emitted  from  his  pipe.  In  the  mean  time  Conant,  looking 
respectfully  towards  the  governor,  observed, — 

"  Since  the  subject  hath  been  mentioned,  let  me  express  my 
deep  regret,  that  the  worthy  Dame  Endicott  should  be,  even 
now,  dangerously  ill  with  the  fever,  which  hath  made  such  havoc 
in  the  colony." 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


"Aye,"  replied  Endicott,  calmly,  "  the  wife  of  my  youth  is 
stricken,  I  fear  me  she  is  sick  even  unto  death,  but  God  in 
his  mercy  may  yet  withdraw  this  cup  of  bitterness.  Her  suffer 
ings  are,  at  this  moment,  but  light,  and  an  angel  from  heaven, 
even  now,  is  ministering  at  her  bedside." 

"  What  mean  you,  Master  Endicott?"  asked  Conant,  in  some 
surprise,  and  as  if  he  believed  the  governor's  mind  bewildered 
by  the  stern  suppression  of  his  natural  emotion. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Endicott,  speaking  with  some  difficulty,  for 
his  voice  seemed  choked  at  times,  in  spite  of  his  sternness, 
"  I  mean  that  her  sufferings  seem  at  the  moment  light,  and  that 
all  which  could  be  done  by  the  gentle  hand  of  woman,  to  allevi 
ate  pain,  is  rendered  to  her  hourly  by  one  who  seemeth  to  me  to 
walk  among  us  more  like  an  angel  than  a  woman.  I  need 
scarcely  add,  Master  Ludlovv,  that  I  speak  of  your  sister." 

The  brother  was  already  gone,  but  Brackenbury  spoke,  — 
"  You  may  well  say,  Master  Endicott,  that  she  seemeth  more 
like  an  angel  than  a  woman,  for  it  hath,  truly,  often  seemed  to 
me,  that  she  must  possess  powers  greater  than  human,  to  sustain 
herself  amid  the  trials  and  the  dangers  to  which  she  hourly 
exposes  her  life.  Since  this  fearful  pestilence  first  began  to 
rage  among  us,  she  hath  been  untiring.  Not  a  cold  hearth  but 
hath  been  warmed,  not  a  starving  family  but  hath  been  fed  from 
her  bounty,  not  a  bedside  at  which  she  hath  not  ministered. 
Providence  hath  been  more  bountiful  in  worldly  goods  to  Master 
Ludlow  and  his  kindred,  than  to  most  of  the  indvvellers  of  the 
wilderness,  but  Esther  Ludlow  holdeth  her  substance  as  a 
sacred  trust  from  the  Almighty,  and  dispenseth  it  accordingly." 

"  And  may  the  blessings  of  those  who  were  nigh  to  perish, 
descend  upon  her  head !"  said  Endicott.  "  Who  dares  murmur, 
when  this  fair  and  feeble  creature  alone  seemeth  endowed  with 
strength  enough  to  sustain,  upon  her  own  shoulders,  so  heavy  a 
burthen  of  suffering  and  sorrow  ?  Were  I  to  be  struck  down  in 


120  MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  midst  of  my  followers,  she  alone,  would  be  more  than  suffi 
cient  to  uphold  and  to  comfort  the  people,  and  with  her  own 
weak  hand,  directed  by  the  Lord,  to  establish  them  beyond  all 
peradventure  in  this  goodly  land." 

The  company  now  began  to  separate,  each  gravely  saluting 
the  governor  as  he  departed.  Endicott  followed  the  last  guest 
to  the  door  of  his  dwelling-place,  and  walked  forward  a  few 
steps  upon  the  clearing.  As  he  stood,  musing  and  solitary,  at  a 
short  distance  from  his  door-step,  a  young  man,  who  was  one  of 
the  recently  arrived  colonists,  saluted  him. 

"A  shrewder  atmosphere  this,  than  the  air  of  England,  most 
worshipful  governor,"  said  he,  with  a  certain  flippancy  of  man 
ner  which  jarred  upon  the  ear  of  the  stern  Joshua  of  New 
England ;  "  and  a  marvellously  sickly  climate  I  fear  me.  Marry, 
if  this  pestilence  continue  longer,  I  shall  even  leave  the  dead  to 
bury  their  dead,  and  take  shipping  for  England." 

The  governor  suddenly  turned  upon  his  complaining  follower, 
and  his  eye  flashed  with  indignation  as  he  spoke. 

"Peace,  Master  Crowther,"  he  cried,  imperiously;  "such 
peevish  repinings  vex  me  to  the  soul.  I  had  hoped  that  the 
grain  had  been  well  winnowed  and  sifted  before  we  took  this 
goodly  work  in  hand;  but  I  find,  to  my  sorrow,  that  there  are 
still  some  grains  of  worthless  chaff  left  in  the  bushel." 

"  If  your  worship  meaneth  to  reproach  me  as  being  the  chaff 
in  the  bushel,"  replied  the  young  man,  with  increased  pertness 
of  demeanor,  "  I  could  be  well  contented  to  be  cast  unto  the 
wind,  so  that  it  might  blow  me  over  the  seas  to  merry  England 
again.  Marry,  chaff  or  wheat,  I  have  at  least  been  well  ground 
between  the  upper  and  nether  millstones  of  famine  and  pesti 
lence,  like  the  rest  of  your  misguided  followers." 

"  Peace,  babbler,  I  say  !  "  thundered  the  governor,  deeply 
incensed,  both  at  the  pusillanimity  of  his  follower,  of  which  he 
had  been  for  some  time  aware,  and  of  his  disrespectful  bearing. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Think  not  that  ye  shall  find  let  or  hindrance  from  me.  I  will 
myself  provide  shipping  for  all  the  chicken-livered  dullards 
whose  cowardly  stomachs  yearn  already  for  the  fleshpots  of 
Egypt." 

"  Beshrew  me,  most  worshipful  governor,"  said  Crowther, 
"  but  it  seemeth  to  me,  that  one  who  is  so  unlucky  as  to  find 
himself,  against  his  will,  in  the  midst  of  tribulation  and  scurvy, 
might  be  at  least  spared  such  scurvy  language.  Why,  pray 
thee,  am  I  to  be  so  sternly  rebuked  ?  " 

"  For  three  different  reasons,  young  man,"  replied  the  sturdy 
governor,  "each  of  which  is  enow  to  prevent  all  friendly  con 
verse  between  us  two  at  this  moment.  First,  because  thy 
cowardly  desertion  of  a  good  cause,  into  which  thou  rather 
forcedst  thyself  than  wert  chosen,  hath  moved  my  indignation. 
Secondly,  because  thy  insolence,  in  the  presence  of  thy  magis 
trate,  deserveth  chastisement.  Thirdly,  because  the  very  hair 
of  thy  head  witnesseth  against  thee,  and  with  its  preposterous 
and  womanish  length,  arouses  my  anger.  Did  not  the  holy 
apostles,  long  ago,  forbid  such  sinful  bedecking  of  the  head? 
Know  ye  not  that  the  longest  hair  hides  ever  the  emptiest 
brain?" 

"Marry,  good  Master  Governor,"  said  Crowther,  somewhat 
provoked  in  his  turn,  at  the  rebuke  thus  roundly  administered  to 
him  ;  "  I  am  yet  to  learn  that  the  Lord  hath  especially  commis 
sioned  thee  to  superintend  the  decking  of  our  outward  man,  or 
that  any  such  authority  hath  been  granted  by  the  company.  I 
understand  thoroughly,  however,  thy  aversion  to  long  hair. 
Men  say  thou  wert  educated  as  a  surgeon,  a  barber-surgeon,  and 
doubtless  thy  fingers  and  scissors  itch  for  the  handling  of  our 
hair." 

"  For  the  cropping  of  thy  ears,  insolent  whelp  ! "  muttered 
Endicott,  repressing  by  a  strong  effort  his  indignation  at  the 
increasing  insolence  of  his  companion. 

VOL.  II.  11 


122  MERRY-MOUNT. 


11  We  have  all  our  aversions,  good  Master  Endicott,"  contin 
ued  Crowther,  with  arms  akimbo.  "  You  cannot  abide  a  head  of 
flowing  locks.  For  me,  a  grizzled  moustachio  is  a  nuisance,  I 
cannot  away  with ." 

More  had  the  flippant  Crowther,  perhaps,  spoken  in  this  vein, 
had  not  the  choleric  governor,  inflamed  beyond  all  bearing  by 
this  last  sally,  suddenly  dealt  him  a  swinging  box  on  the  ear. 
The  young  man,  stunned  as  well  as  surprised  by  this  unexpected 
buffet,  which  the  governor  did  not  vouchsafe  to  accompany  with 
a  single  word  of  explanation,  measured  his  length  upon  the 
grass.  Upon  recovering  his  consciousness  and  perpendicular 
position,  he  ventured  to  suggest,  but  in  a  marvellously  discom 
fited  and  crest-fallen  tone,  that  this  was  a  kind  of  treatment  to 
which  he  was  unaccustomed,  and  which  he  considered  thor 
oughly  unbecoming  upon  the  part  of  the  chief  magistrate  of  the 
colony. 

"  Get  home,  Master  Malapert,"  thundered  the  governor  in 
reply,  cutting  short  all  further  remonstrances,  "  get  home  upon 
the  instant,  or  I  promise  thee  that  within  fifteen  minutes  shall  a 
pair  of  stocks  be  constructed,  and  that  thou  shalt  have  the  honor 
of  sitting  in  them  for  the  first  time,  and  every  day  hereafter 
until  thou  learnest  a  proper  respect  for  thy  superiors.  Haddest 
thou  tarried  at  Jericho  till  thine  own  beard  was  grown,  thou 
wouldest  have  had  less  occasion  to  insult  the  grey  hairs  of  thy 
elders,  and  the  colony  would  have  been  well  rid  of  a  drone." 

The  governor  concluded  with  a  peremptory  gesture,  at  which 
the  discomfited  Crowther  sneaked  away  without  any  further 
observations.  Endicott  remained  standing  upon  the  spot  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  began  to  rebuke  himself  severely.  He  was  a 
man  of  quick  temper,  accustomed  to  military  command,  requir 
ing  implicit  obedience,  bigoted  in  his  religious  opinions,  but 
of  indomitable  courage  and  great  sagacity.  Such  a  man  of 
iron,  rigid,  unyielding,  incisive  character  was,  perhaps,  the  true 


MERRY-MOUNT.  133 


and  only  instrument  by  which  the  first  foundations  of  the  Puritan 
commonwealth  could  have  been  hewn  out  in  that  stern  and 
rocky  wilderness. 

After  rebuking  himself,  more  perhaps  than  he  deserved,  for 
the  excess  into  which  his  warm  temper  had  carried  him,  his 
mind  reverted  to  his  wife,  who  had  followed  his  fortunes  with 
the  unshrinking  fortitude  which  distinguished  so  many  Puritan 
matrons  of  that  day,  but  whose  tender  frame  was  evidently 
sinking  under  her  situation.  He  had  watched  by  her  couch 
with  a  tenderness  such  as  could  hardly  have  been  looked  for 
beneath  that  rigid  exterior  ;  and  his  labors  had  been  alleviated, 
as  we  have  seen,  by  the  assiduity  of  Esther  Ludlow.  He  return 
ed  pensively  towards  his  home,  and,  with  a  slow  step,  ascended 
to  the  chamber  where  the  sufferer  lay. 

It  was  a  low,  mean  room,  with  one  small  window.  The  floor 
as  well  as  the  walls  were  of  rough  planks,  and  the  scanty  furni 
ture,  as  well  as  the  equipments  of  the  humble  couch  where  the 
dying  woman  reposed,  were  of  the  humblest  description.  The 
private  apartment  of  that  Puritan  governor  was  not  luxurious. 
It  was  almost  squalid,  although  in  the  best  and  fairest  house  of 
the  village,  and  looked  more  like  the  den  of  a  starving  pauper 
than  the  chamber  of  a  magistrate.  Some  large  logs  were  smoul 
dering  upon  the  hearth,  which,  as  the  only  window  was  dark 
ened  by  a  cloak  which  had  been  pinned  against  it,  diffused  a 
dim  and  solemn  light  throughout  the  room. 

Upon  a  rude  block  of  wood,  close  by  the  pillow  of  the  sufferer, 
sat  Esther  Ludlow,  her  eyes  overflowing  with  silent  tears.  There 
sat  that  fair  Puritan,  over  whose  head  there  almost  seemed  a  halo, 
a  visible  emblem  consecrating  the  presence  where  all  that  is  most 
gentle  and  heroic  in  woman,  seemed  embodied.  Endicott  entered 
the  apartment  noiselessly,  and  paused  for  an  instant  upon  the 
threshold.  A  tear  trickled  down  his  iron  cheek  as  he  looked 
towards  the  rude  pallet,  where  she,  who  had  forsaken  all  to  follow 


124  MERRY-MOUNT. 


him  into  that  desert,  now  lay  struggling  with  death.  The  mortal 
reward  which  she  had  reaped  for  her  devotion,  was  a  few  months 
of  sorrow,  and  a  death  in  the  wilderness.  But  to  the  exalted 
enthusiasm  of  Endicott,  as  confident  in  the  shadowy  compact 
which  he  had  long  since  made  with  the  ruling  power  of  the  uni 
verse,  as  in  his  agreements  with  his  terrestial  employers,  a 
crown  of  glory  seemed  already  descending  upon  her  head. 

Esther  put  her  finger  softly  upon  her  lips,  as  soon  as  she  was 
aware  of  his  entrance,  to  indicate  that  the  weary  sufferer  was 
asleep.  He  fell  upon  his  knees  in  silent,  fervent  prayer.  Life 
was  still  fluttering  about  the  feeble  heart  of  the  victim.  Motion 
less,  upon  outspread  wings,  the  death-angel  seemed  to  hover 
above  her  head,  lingering,  reluctant,  as  if  his  purpose  had  been 
changed  by  the  mutely-appealing,  protective  form  of  Esther. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  305 


CHAPTER     XI. 

THE    WARNING. 

LATE  in  that  November  afternoon,  Esther  Ludlow  walked 
from  the  o-overnor's  house  towards  her  own  home.  Dame  Endi- 

O 

cott  still  lingered,  but  in  a  hopeless  and  insensible  state,  and 
Esther,  whose  rude  but  commodious  dwelling-place  had  for  some 
weeks  been  converted  into  a  hospital  for  the  many  exiles,  whom 
the  pestilence  arid  famine  had  stricken,  now  bent  her  steps  home 
wards  to  fulfil  her  duties  there. 

She  had,  herself,  recently  dispatched  a  messenger  to  Ply 
mouth,  who  bore  a  letter  from  Endicott  to  Governor  Bradford, 
praying  that  the  services  of  the  worthy  and  eminent  Doctor  Ful 
ler,  who  had  already  rendered  signal  services,  during  similar 
afflictions  in  the  older  colony,  might  be  extended  to  the  suffering 
colonists  of  Naurnkeak.  In  the  mean  time  the  whole  superin 
tendence  of  this  hospital  devolved  upon  her  brother  and  herself. 

The  enthusiasm  of  Esther  sustained  her  in  these  dark  hours. 
She  flitted  among  the  suffering  people  like  an  angel  of  mercy, 
shedding  blessings  from  her  wino-s.  She  had  at  last  found  her 

o  CD  o 

sphere.  The  vision  which  had  been  displayed  before  her  exalted 
imagination  so  long,  seemed  at  last  to  change  to  reality.  The 
foundation  of  that  great  religious  asylum  beyond  the  sea,  seemed, 
al  last,  securely  laid.  Not  appalled  by  the  gloom  which  hung 
over  the  birth-day  of  the  colony,  not  daunted  by  the  dangers 
which  rose  like  spectres  along  its  course,  she  felt  her  heart  beat 
high  within  her  as  she  contemplated  the  sublime  motives,  the 
unwavering  courage,  of  the  leaders  of  the  undertaking.  She 
rejoiced  that  Providence  had  at  last  revealed  to  her  a  mode  in 
11* 


126  MERRY-MOUNT. 


which  she  might  prove,  otherwise  than  in  idle  rhapsodies,  her 
deep  devotion  to  the  cause  which  had  led  her  and  her  brother 
into  the  wilderness.  She  rejoiced  that  her  comparatively  wealthy 
condition,  and  her  habituation  to  the  climate,  enabled  her  to 
render  essential  services  to  those  starving,  perishing  martyrs. 

Charity,  in  marble  or  on  canvass,  is  an  attractive,  adorable 
image,  but  the  exercise  of  the  virtue  in  reality,  and  in  detail,  is 
far  less  picturesque.  Esther  was  true  to  her  mission,  which  she 
felt  had  been  intrusted  to  her  by  the  hand  of  the  Lord.  She 
never  faltered,  she  never  repined,  not  a  cloud  obscured  the 
brightness  of  her  face,  which  diffused  a  radiance  around  the 
gloomy  hovels  where  she  was  a  daily  visitant,  and  where  to  many 
a  weary  soul  she  seemed  like  one  clad  in  the  shining  garments 
of  a  better  world. 

Yet  she  had  sorrows  of  her  own,  and  her  heart  was  sad 
when  she  thought  of  Henry  Maudsley.  To  her  it  seemed  that 
they  were  hopelessly  separated.  She  had  not  seen  him,  she  had 
heard  no  tidings  of  him  since  that  inexplicable  interview  in 
which  he  had  heaped  so  many  wild  and  incoherent  reproaches 
upon  her,  and  in  which  he  had  thrown  around  her  neck  the 
chain,  of  which  he  had  possessed  himself  in  so  mysterious  a 
manner.  She  supposed  that  he  had  already  crossed  the  ocean, 
never  to  look  upon  her  face  again,  and  that  he  believed  her 
fickle,  deceitful,  capricious.  As  she  thought  of  this,  as  she 
thought  how  incapable  he  had  proved  himself  of  reading  her 
soul,  as  she  remembered  the  stinging  words,  more  poisonous 
than  adders',  with  which  he  had  tortured  her  when  last  they  met, 
her  proud  soul  mounted,  indignant  and  resentful,  to  a  height 
from  which  she  looked  down  with  pity  upon  one  so  perverse  and 
so  misguided.  And  yet  she  could  not  but  acknowledge,  in  her 
heart  of  hearts,  that  life  had  forever  lost  its  brightness,  and  that 
a  portion  of  her  soul  was  withering  never  to  blossom  again. 

Brooding   over   these   melancholy   thoughts,    Esther   strayed 


MERRY-MOUNT.  137 


pensively  homewards.  The  twilight  was  gathering,  and  she  had 
already  left  the  last  hovel  behind  her,  which  intervened  between 
the  little  village  and  her  own  abode,  when  as  she  passed 
beneath  the  branches  of  the  vast  pine  trees  which  skirted  her 
own  domain,  she  felt  a  sudden,  but  gentle  touch  upon  the 
shoulder.  She  turned  quickly  around,  feeling  but  slight  alarm, 
for  she  supposed  herself  probably  accosted  by  one  of  the  set 
tlers,  when  to  her  surprise  she  beheld  a  person  whom  she  had 
certainly  never  seen  before,  and  who,  at  least  by  that  dim  and 
uncertain  light,  seemed  hardly  human.  A  withered,  leathern, 
apish,  malicious  face,  lighted  by  two  sparkling,  toad-like  eyes, 
a  supple,  lithe,  baboon-like  figure,  whose  restless  and  erratic 
movements  seemed  altogether  involuntary,  were  the  charac 
teristics  of  the  personage  who  now  presented  himself  to  her 
astonished  eyes.  As  soon  as  this  extraordinary  creature  found 
that  he  had  attracted  her  attention,  he  suddenly  threw  a  som 
erset  high  in  the  air,  and  alighting  upon  one  leg,  he  thrust 
forth  a  carefully  sealed  packet  in  his  brown  and  shriveled 
paw.  As  Esther,  manifesting  considerable  repugnance  and 
alarm,  seemed  reluctant  to  take  the  letter,  and  anxious  to  make 
her  escape,  the  creature  suddenly  gibbered  out,  in  a  shrill  voice, 
the  name  of  Henry  Maudsley.  As  the  loved  name  struck  her 
ear,  Esther  instinctively  reached  forth  her  hand  and  snatched 
the  packet,  whereupon  the  singular  creature  uttered  a  chuckling 
laugh,  threw  another  somerset,  and  disappeared  in  the  thicket. 
As  soon  as  her  strange  companion,  who  was  no  other  than  Peter 
Cakebread,  had  taken  his  departure  in  this  whimsical  manner, 
Esther  hastened  to  her  own  cottage,  tore  the  seals  from  the 
mysterious  packet,  and  read,  by  the  light  of  a  pine  torch,  the 
following  lines : 

"  A  fearful  danger  is  impending  over  thee,  Esther.  Thine 
own  hand  only  can  avert  the  blow.  One  who  hath  no  further 
claim  upon  thy  heart,  hath  yet  sworn  to  devote  his  life,  if  neces- 


128  MERRY-MOUNT. 


sary,  to  solve  the  mystery  which  envelopes  at  this  moment  thine 
own  destiny  and  his.  But  all  efforts  will  be  fruitless,  if  these 
words  do  not  alarm  thee.  I  know,  I  deplore  the  infatuation 
which  hath  involved  thy  fate  with  the  fortunes  of  a  nameless 
adventurer.  I  bid  thee  most  solemnly  now,  in  this  my  fare 
well  missive,  to  beware  of  him,  Shun  him  as  thou  wouldest 
perdition.  Power  or  right  to  say  more  at  this  present,  I  have 
not.  Within  a  few  days,  I  purpose  to  take  shipping  for  Eng 
land,  with  but  one  purpose  in  view,  to  enable  myself  to  solve 
my  own  doubts,  and  to  arm  myself  with  authority  to  tear  off  the 
garments  which  disguise  a  hypocrite,  a  villain,  and  a  malefactor. 
Think  not  that  wounded  pride  or  petty  jealousy  dictate  my 
course.  No,  Esther,  thou  wilt  not  judge  me  thus  harshly. 
Were  I  doomed  to  perish  at  this  hour,  still,  with  my  latest 
breath  would  I  implore  thee  to  break  forever  from  the  meshes 
which  surround  thee,  before  thy  destruction  be  accomplished. 
One  word  more,  and  I  have  finished.  To  thy  loyalty  I  trust 
that  this  communication  may  be  buried  in  oblivion,  and  that  no 
living  being  hear  from  thy  lips  of  my  existence,  either  in  this 
wilderness  or  in  the  world. 

HENRY  MAUDSLEY." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  129 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    PLOTS    OF    CAKEBREAD. 

THE  solitude  of  Shawmut  had  not  yet  been  invaded  by  any 
detachment  from  Endicott's  colony.  Although  the  brothers 
Sprague  had  already  established  themselves  in  the  neighboring 
promontory  of  Mishawum,  where,  until  their  arrival,  the  burly 
blacksmith  had  dwelt  in  undisturbed  repose,  yet  the  hermit 
Blaxton  still  maintained  himself  upon  his  beautiful  peninsula. 

He  had,  however,  for  many  weeks  past  had  a  companion. 
We  have  seen  at  what  a  critical  moment  he  had  found  Henry 
Maudsley.  The  hermit's  skill  in  pharmacy,  aided  by  the  vigor 
ous  constitution  of  the  wounded  youth,  had  at  last  frustrated  the 
malice  of  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner.  The  knight,  never  doubt 
ing  of  his  death,  had  been  withheld  by  a  feeling  not  natural  to 
him,  but  which,  for  particular  considerations,  was  an  overpower 
ing  one  in  this  case,  from  putting  foot  upon  the  peninsula.  The 
corpse  of  his  victim,  lying  unburied  upon  that  solitary  beach, 
was  a  sight  from  which  he  shrank.  Although,  at  times,  he  felt 
disposed  to  summon  up  his  old  energy,  and  to  laugh  down  his 
compunctious  visitings,  yet  he  was  after  all  forced  to  submit  to 
what  seemed  a  decree  of  destiny.  However  much  he  essayed 
to  conquer  his  repugnance,  however  important  it  had  been  at 
times  for  him  to  visit  Blaxton,  still  would  the  spectre  of  the 
murdered  M  udsley  rise  up  before  him,  and  scare  him  from  his 
purpose.  The  reasons,  which  so  excited  his  imagination,  will 
be  more  fully  developed  hereafter. 


130  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Maudsley  still  lived,  however,  and  after  many  struggling 
weeks,  during  which  his  life  had  been  trembling  daily  and 
hourly  in  the  balance,  he  had  at  last  recovered. 

It  was  a  singular  dispensation  which  had  placed  him  in  Blax- 
ton's  hands.  Had  this  opportune  succor  been  extended  to  him 
by  any  other  person,  the  whole  wilderness  of  New  England 
would  have  rung  with  the  strange  adventure.  As  it  was,  no 
living  soul  but  himself  knew  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 
His  antagonist  believed  him  dead.  The  Ludlows  believed  him 
in  England.  Blaxton  knew  not,  for  he  never  inquired  in  what 
manner  he  had  received  so  desperate  a  wound.  This  indiffer" 
ence  in  any  other  person  would  have  been  impossible,  in  the 
hermit  it  was  perfectly  natural.  His  extreme  abstraction  from 
all  worldly  interests,  as  well  as  a  singular  delicacy  which  in 
stinctively  forbade  him  from  intruding  upon  Maudsley's  confi 
dence,  had  kept  him  not  only  silent,  but  perfectly  incurious. 
During  his  patient's  convalescence,  he  had  peremptorily  refused 
to  listen  to  a  disclosure,  which  he  saw  was  offered  with  a  secret 
unwillingness,  and  induced  by  a  feeling  of  gratitude.  The  two 
companions  were  thus  at  once  put  at  their  ease,  and  the  cause 
of  Maudsley's  involuntary  intrusion  upon  the  hermit's  solitude, 
was  never  again  alluded  to  during  its  continuance.  Their  dis 
course,  when  they  did  converse,  was  wholly  upon  other  matters. 
The  solitary's  thoughts,  as  we  know,  were  discursive,  and  seldom 
closely  related  to  surrounding  circumstances,  so  that  during  the 
protracted  period  of  the  wounded  man's  convalescence,  they  had 
ample  opportunity  to  put  many  a  girdle  about  the  universe,  but 
were  never  once  in  danger  of  descending  to  details  which  might 
perhaps  have  embarrassed  Maudsley. 

It  was  one  of  those  exquisite  but  melancholy  mornings  which 
are  sparingly  sprinkled  through  the  earlier  half  of  a  Massachusetts 
November.  There  was  a  thin,  golden  haze  in  the  sky  which  the 
faint  breathing  of  the  south-west  was  not  sufficiently  powerful 


MERRY-MOUNT.  131 


to  lift,  the  water  of  the  western  cove  sparkled  like  silver,  and^ 
the  gently  diversified  amphitheatre  of  hills  which  surrounded  it, 
was  softened  by  that  purple,  cloud-like  tinge  which  is  so  charac 
teristic  of  Italian  landscape,  and  which  occasionally  usurps  the 
place  of  the  vitreous  and  dazzling  clearness  which  more  peculi 
arly  belongs  to  American  scenery.  The  woods,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  the  oaks,  where  the  shrivelled  foliage  still  tenaciously 
clung,  were  leafless  and  desolate.  Gaudy  October,  with  her 
robes  of  a  thousand  dyes,  had  vanished,  her  glittering  diadem 
lay  crushed  upon  the  ground,  while  sad  November,  like  a  grey, 
discrowned  queen,  with  pensive  brow  and  mourning  weeds  and 
melancholy  pace,  followed  in  the  jocund  footsteps  of  her  departed 
sister. 

The  dark  pines  still  lifted  on  high  their  fadeless  plumes,  but 
throughout  the  rest  of  the  forest,  no  living  leaf  decorated  the 
bare  and  skeleton  tracery,  save  the  yellow,  starry  blossoms  of 
the  witch-hazel,  that  mysterious  plant  which  adorns  its  leafless 
sprays  with  golden  flowers,  just  at  the  approach  of  winter,  as  if 
it  loved  to  decorate  the  pale  and  lifeless  corpse  of  nature. 

Blaxton  held  a  flowering  twig  of  this  weird  and  singular  shrub 
in  his  hand,  as  he  strolled  that  morning  by  his  forest  fountain, 
indulging  in  an  erratic  conversation  with  Henry  Maudsley.  In 
spired  by  such  an  accidental  circumstance  as  this,  he  could 
wander  off  into  illimitable  space,  torturing  the  subject  of  his 
observation  into  a  thousand  similes. 

"  Observe  these  golden  stars,"  said  he  to  his  companion,  who 
looked  abstractedly  at  the  branch,  but  whose  thoughts  were  far 
away,  "  are  they  not  aptly  clustered  upon  this  wizard  plant  ? 
'T  is  fitting  that  the  tree,  whose  every  twig  is  a  divining  rod, 
able  to  guide  the  skilful  seeker  to  mines  of  unsunned  gold, 
should  wear  such  golden  stars.  It  wears  them  in  winter,  too, 
for  are  not  the  flowers  which  blossom  in  the  mine,  fadeless7 
Do  they  not  smile  at  winter's  impotent  cold?" 


132  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  They  are  indeed  pretty  flowers,"  answered  Maudsley,  care 
lessly,  for  his  thoughts  were  upon  other  matters;  "I  remember 
that  you  informed  me  of  their  importance  in  pharmacy,  of  their 
singular  healing  properties." 

"And  yet,"  continued  the  hermit,  who  had  informed  him  of 
no  such  thing,  but  who,  as  usual,  did  not  hear  a  syllable  that 
was  addressed  to  him,  "  and  yet  is  there  not  a  prophetic 
warning  in  this  late  blossoming?  The  divining  tree  puts  forth 
its  flowers  when  all  the  gladness  of  the  green  earth  hath  passed 
away,  —  even  so  do  the  golden  flowers  of  wealth  too  often  delay 
their  unfolding  till  the  hair  of  the  seeker  is  grey,  and  his  blood 
cold,  and  his  heart  as  withered  and  leafless  as  this  shivering 
forest  which  surrounds  us  now." 

As  he  spoke,  he  broke  off  all  the  little  twigs  from  the  branch 
which  he  held,  leaving  only  a  bare  and  forked  stick,  the  proper 
form  of  the  divining  rod.  Then  he  began  musingly  to  walk  to 
and  fro  about  the  open  glade  near  the  fountain,  holding  the  rod 
between  the  thumbs  and  fore-fingers  of  both  hands,  in  an  ele 
vated  position. 

"  The  rod,  as  thou  knowest,  young  stranger,"  continued  the 
solitary,  who  had  never  yet  inquired  Maudsley's  name  and  his 
tory,  about  which  he  was  profoundly  indifferent,  "  the  rod  serves 
as  well  to  indicate  the  crystal  veins  of  living  water,  which  fill, 
like  innocent  milk,  the  maternal  bosom  of  nature,  as  to  direct 
the  thirsty  gold  seeker  in  his  feverish  pursuit." 

The  hermit  continued  gravely  pacing  to  and  fro  along  the 
withered  turf,  holding  his  divining  rod  lightly  in  his  hands, 
while  Maudsley,  lost  in  thought,  scarcely  attended  to  what  was 
passing.  At  last,  the  rod  which  had  obstinately  maintained  its 
elevated  position,  began  slowly  to  turn  in  his  fingers,  and  after  a 
little  while  pointed  directly  down  upon  the  earth  beneath  him. 

"  Were  I  a  gold  seeker  now,"  said  he,  standing  perfectly  still, 
and  looking  contemptuously  down  upon  the  spot,  to  which  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  133 


divining  rod  pointed,  "  I  should  feel  sure  that  this  indication 
could  not  mislead.  Thank  God,  however,  I  am  not  a  money 
digger.  In  all  the  vagaries  of  my  useless  life,  I  never  sought  for 
gold.  How  melancholy,  my  friend,  seems  to  a  contemplative 
recluse,  the  pursuit  of  wealth.  Unhappy  the  wretch  who,  hold 
ing  ever  a  divining  rod  in  his  weary  hands,  pores  still  with  bent 
shoulders  and  aching  eyes  upon  the  dark  recesses  where  nature 
hides  her  gold,  and  never  sees  the  blue  sky  above  him,  nor  the 
bright  sunshine,  nor  the  gay  flowers  which  blossom  for  rich  and 
poor." 

'Tis  strange,"  continued  he  half  unconsciously,  after  a  pause, 
"  but  the  rod  bath  pointed  almost  exactly  to  the  little  cellarage 
where  I  have  buried  my  iron  box  of  papers.  Perhaps  Sir  Chris 
topher's  documents  which  lie  with  them  may  be  as  golden  as  his 
visions."  As  the  solitary  thus  soliloquized,  he  tossed  away  the 
twig.  Maudsley  had  not  heard  his  last  remark,  but  finding  his 
companion  silent,  was  about  speaking  upon  another  subject, 
when  the  whimsical  figure  of  Peter  Cakebread  suddenly  present 
ed  itself. 

That  respectable  and  practical  individual  had  evidently  heard 
the  hermit's  concluding  observations,  and  very  gravely,  secretly, 
and  accurately,  took  note  of  the  spot,  which  Blaxton  had  thus 
carelessly  indicated.  As  soon  as  he  had  done  so,  he  made  a 
triumphant  leap  into  the  air,  and  stood  for  a  moment  upon  his 
head,  by  way  of  announcing  his  arrival  to  Maudsley. 

As  soon  as  the  hermit  became  aware  of  the  presence  of 
this  personage,  he  turned  upon  his  heel,  sauntered  away  in 
search  of  his  bull,  and  was  a  few  minutes  afterwards  seen  sweep 
ing  through  the  park  at  a  headlong  pace.  Maudsley,  in  the 
meantime,  eagerly  accosted  Cakebread,  from  whom  he  received 
not  only  an  account  of  the  safe  delivery  of  his  missive  to  Esther 
Ludlow  but  also  a  small  parcel  of  papers,  which  the  messenger 
took  with  a  mysterious  air  from  his  bosom.  A  singular  expression 

VOL.  n.  12 


134  MERRY-MOUNT. 


passed  over  Maudsley's  countenance  as  his  eye  fell  upon  these 
documents,  and  after  a  moment's  apparent  hesitation  and  reluc 
tance  he  began  eagerly  to  devour  their  contents. 

The  respectable  Peter  Cakebread,  as  we  have  omitted  to  in 
form  the  reader,  had  gone  into  the  service  of  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner,  after  the  lamentable  overthrow  and  departure  of  his 
former  master,  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount.  It  will  be,  however, 
remembered,  that  he  had  received  a  certain  memorable  flagella 
tion  at  the  hands  of  the  knight,  which  a  person  of  his  particular 
temperament  was  not  likely  to  forget  or  forgive.  He  had,  how 
ever,  entirely  dissembled  his  hatred,  in  order  more  fully  to  gratify 
it  in  the  sequel,  and  he  was  accordingly  very  glad,  upon  the  gen 
eral  breaking  up  of  the  establishment  at  Merry-Mount,  to  accept 
Sir  Christopher's  offer  of  employment. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  state  the  details  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  was  first  presented  to  Maudsley's  notice  at  Shawmut.  Suffice 
that  he  had  been  bound  to  secrecy  by  the  most  cogent  of  argu 
ments,  and  that  the  existence  of  Maudsley  was  still  quite  un 
known,  as  well  to  Sir  Christopher  as  to  every  other  dweller  in 
the  wilderness. 

Peter  Cakebread,  with  the  tendency  to  investigation  which 
marked  his  character,  had  omitted  no  opportunity,  at  odd  mo 
ments,  thoroughly  to  search  the  house  of  Gardiner,  and  in  so 
doing  had  discovered  many  papers  which  threw  some  light  upon 
the  private  history  of  the  man  who  had  excited  his  curiosity  as 
well  as  his  deadly  hatred.  Although  Gardiner  had  deposited 
with  Blaxton,  some  months  before  this  epoch,  a  large  portion  of 
his  important  papers  and  correspondence,  yet  there  were  enough 
remaining,  which  related  more  to  his  own  personal  matters,  to  ex 
cite  if  not  to  gratify  the  malicious  curiosity  of  Cakebread.  It  may 
be  judged  with  what  satisfaction  he  had  heard  Blaxton's  accidental 
remark,  although  he  carefully  avoided  mentioning  the  matter  at 
that  moment  to  Maudsley.  Now  it  chanced  that  the  papers 


MERRY-MOUNT.  135 


already  found  seemed  to  bear  some  relation  to  the  Maudsley 
family.  Having  been  sent  upon  an  errand  to  Blaxton,  in 
consequence  of  the  knight's  repugnance  to  visit  Shawmut,  he 
had  been  accidentally  brought  into  contact  with  Henry  Mauds- 
ley,  and  had  communicated  to  him  a  part  of  the  information  he 
had  acquired. 

Maudsley  would  naturally  have  shrunk  with  horror  from  a  sur 
reptitious  examination  of  papers  obtained  thus  by  stealth,  even 
from  one  who  was  his  deadly  foe.  The  name  of  Edith  Maudsley 
upon  one  of  the  documents,  however,  happened  to  strike  his  eye  at 
the  first  glance  which  he  threw  upon  them.  Thereafter,  and  for 
very  sufficient  reasons,  he  felt  no  restraint,  but  without  the  slight 
est  compunction,  was  ready  to  plunge,  by  any  means,  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  mystery.  Still,  however,  he  was  doomed  to  be 
baffled,  for  the  information  which  he  gained  was  but  fragmentary 
and  unsatisfactory.  He  acquired  a  clue  which  led  him  to  some 
distance  and  awakened  some  deep  and  decided  suspicions,  but 
still  the  affair  remained  perplexed,  and  the  proof  incomplete.  It 
was  necessary  for  him  to  visit  England,  immediately  and  secretly, 
to  probe  the  matter  to  the  bottom,  and  he  waited  his  restoration 
to  tolerable  health  and  strength  with  great  impatience. 

He  had,  in  the  solitary  perverseness  of  a  jealous  and  wounded 
spirit,  thoroughly  wrought  himself  up  to  a  belief  in  Esther's  infatu 
ation  for  the  adventurous  knight.  He  felt  that  she  was  lost  to  him, 
but  his  generous  nature  recoiled  from  the  thought  of  permitting 
her  to  lose  herself  forever.  But  there  were  other  and  still  more 
powerful  cords  which  bound  him  and  the  knight  in  one  destiny. 
At  least  his  suspicions,  founded  upon  something  much  stronger 
than  surmise,  were  now  added  to  the  inexplicable  sensations 
which  the  first  sight  of  Sir  Christopher  had  excited  in  his  mind. 
As  far  as  he  knew,  he  had  never  met  him  in  any  other  part  of 
the  world,  and  yet  there  was  a  mysterious  feeling  excited  by  his 
presence —  a  feeling  like  a  dim  reminiscence  of  a  previous  exist- 


36  MERRY-MOUNT. 


tence,  for  which  he  could  not  account,  and  which,  he  could  not, 
by  any  effort,  wholly  banish  from  his  imagination.  Had  he  been 
acquainted  with  the  connection  of  the  knight  with  the  Gorges 
family,  he  would  probably  have  made  much  more  rapid  strides 
towards  an  elucidation  of  the  mysteries,  but  it  so  happened 
that  the  documents,  heretofore  submitted  to  him,  contained 
no  mention  of  Sir  Ferdinando,  and  related  mostly  to  a  period  of 
time  long  past  away.  Later  papers,  which  very  probably  might 
be  in  existence,  had  not  yet  been  found  by  the  diligent  Cake- 
bread. 

Under  a  full  view  of  the  circumstances,  therefore,  Maudsley 
could  do  no  more  than  write  the  enigmatical  letter  to  Esther, 
previous  to  his  departure  to  England.  To  him,  henceforth, 
Esther  was  as  nothing,  but  his  own  honor  demanded  a  thorough 
investigation  of  the  character  of  the  person  at  whose  hands,  as  he 
now  believed,  he  had  suffered  more  than  one  outrage,  and  whom, 
he  hoped  ere  long,  to  punish  as  a  felon,  not  as  a  rival. 

Cakebread  had  informed  him  of  the  safe  delivery  of  his  mis 
sion  to  Esther,  and  there  was  now  nothing  more  to  detain  him 
in  New  England.  A  small  vessel  was  to  depart  the  next  day 
from  Naumkeak,  with  a  cargo  of  furs  to  the  company  in  Eng 
land,  and  in  that  vessel  he  had  determined  secretly  to  embark. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  137 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE    GRAVE-DIGGER. 

ALL  that  day  there  had  been  a  long,  low,  purple  bank  of  clouds 
brooding  along  the  south-western  quarter  of  the  horizon.  In 
spite  of  the  genial  temperature  of  the  atmosphere,  and  indeed  in 
consequence  of  it,  Maudsley,  who  had  lived  long  enough  in  the 
climate  to  understand  its  character,  knew  that  a  storm,  and 
probably  a  heavy  snow-storm,  was  impending. 

He  had,  however,  taken  leave  of  his  hospitable  and  eccentric 
entertainer  soon  after  the  interview  with  Cakebread,  which  took 
place  early  in  the  forenoon,  and,  assisted  by  a  favoring  breeze, 
he  had  made  a  rapid  passage  to  Naumkeak  in  Blaxton's  little 
skiff,  which  Cakebread  was  to  restore,  upon  the  succeeding  day, 
to  its  owner. 

It  was  not  his  purpose  to  make  his  presence  known,  either  to 
the  Ludlows  or  to  any  other  of  the  colonists,  and  he  had  already 
placed  his  effects  on  board  the  vessel  which  was  to  sail  for  Eng 
land  early  the  following  day. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  wandered  about  the  woods  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  little  settlement,  carefully  avoiding  the 
vicinity  of  the  Ludlows'  residence,  and  concealing  himself  from 
the  observation  of  any  casual  wayfarer  from  the  village. 

The  scene  was  bare  and  desolate.  The  short-lived  glory  of 
an  Indian  summer's  morning  had  long  since  given  place  to  the 
chill,  leaden  atmosphere  of  a  winter's  afternoon.  The  rising 
north-easterly  wind  sighed  mournfully  through  the  leafless  forest. 
The  withered  leaves,  eddying  and  whirling  with  every  sudden 
gust,  swept  around  him  with  a  ghost-like  sound.  The  dried 
12* 


138  MERRY-MOUNT. 


branches  crackled  beneath  his  foot.  The  waving  branches  of 
the  pine  trees  sent  forth  a  dirge-like  sound,  in  which  he  seemed 
to  hear  the  requiem  of  all  his  earthly  hopes.  The  boding  cry  of 
a  sable  company  of  ravens,  which  were  winging  their  way  across 
the  tree-tops,  jarred  upon  his  ear  like  a  funereal  wail.  A  few 
flakes  of  snow  were  already  flitting  through  the  gloomy  atmos 
phere,  which  was  pregnant  with  the  coming  tempest.  All  around 
him  looked  barren,  desolate,  and  in  gloomy  unison  with  his  own 
broken  existence  arid  withered  hopes. 

As  if  in  mockery,  it  seemed  that  the  example  and  the  enthu 
siasm  of  Esther  had  begun  to  work  their  natural  effect  upon  his 
impressionable  temperament,  just  at  the  very  moment  when  she 
seemed  lost  to  him  forever.  Bitterly  did  he  reproach  himself 
now,  for  the  wanton  reproaches  which  he  had  so  profusely 
dealt  upon  her  faith,  or,  as  he  had  then  termed  it,  her  fa 
naticism.  Every  idle  word  which  he  had  uttered  in  his 
scornful  moods,  recurred  to  his  fancy  now  with  vivid  distinct 
ness.  Each  word  seemed  a  scorpion  whip,  and  memory  an 
avenging  fury ;  and  yet  it  was  all  too  late.  Whence,  he 
thought,  except  from  some  juggling  fiend,  could  come  these 
holy  promptings,  at  a  moment  when  every  thing  swam  around 
him,  and  when  his  faith  in  every  thing  pure  and  holy  was 
destroyed  by  the  discovery  of  Esther's  feebleness  and  falsehood. 
It  was  all  a  mockery.  He  beat  down  the  rising  feelings  of 
religious  faith,  as  he  would  have  trampled  upon  a  tempting 
demon. 

Thoughts  like  these  were  whirling  through  his  brain,  as  he 
moved  now  slowly,  now  rapidly,  through  the  melancholy  woods. 
At  last,  as  he  approached  the  verge  of  the  irregular  clearing,  at 
the  extremity  of  which  the  infant  village  was  situated,  he  heard 
a  dull  sound,  as  of  an  iron  instrument  striking  the  frozen  turf. 
He  stepped  forward  in  the  direction  whence  the  sound  pro 
ceeded,  and  found  a  solitary  individual  digging  a  rude  grave. 
Pie  gazed  upon  the  scene  with  a  gloomy  kind  of  satisfaction. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  139 


The  snow  was  already  falling  thick  and  fast,  the  shades  of 
evening  were  prematurely  approaching,  all  nature  seemed 
arrayed  in  gloom. 

The  grave-digger  was  a  thin,  feeble  figure,  and  as  he  ever 
and  anon  laid  aside  his  rusty  pickaxe,  and  struck  his  arms 
to  and  fro  across  his  breast,  to  arouse  the  warmth  in  his 
shivering  frame,  he  looked  almost  like  a  shadowy  creation  of 
the  fancy.  As  he  resumed  his  labor  again,  there  seemed 
something  in  his  countenance  familiar  to  Maudsley,  who  pre 
sently  recollected  the  features  of  Faint-not  Mellowes,  the  Suf- 
folkshire  weaver  and  pilgrim  from  New  Plymouth,  whom,  as 
has  appeared  in  the  earlier  pages  of  this  history,  he  had  once 
rescued  from  the  ruffianly  hands  of  the  Merry-Mount  crew. 

His  gloomy  task  required  no  little  labor,  for  his  arms  were 
weak  and  the  earth  was  rigidly  frost-bound.  It  seemed  that  the 
inhospitable  wilderness,  which  had  greeted  those  early  pilgrims 
with  so  cold  a  welcome,  and  inflicted  upon  them  so  many 
fearful  sufferings,  would  almost  deny  to  their  dead  a  resting- 
place  in  its  bosom.  It  was  a  melancholy  scene,  in  which,  at 
that  moment,  Maudsley  and  the  grave-digger  were  the  only 
actors.  They  stood  at  the  edge  of  a  clearing  of  some  twenty 
acres,  at  the  opposite  extremity  of  which  were  huddled  together 
the  few  miserable  mud-walled  and  coarsely  thatched  hovels, 
which,  with  the  "  fair  house  "  of  the  governor,  constituted  the 
village  of  Naumkeak.  A  thin  wreath  of  smoke  rose  above  the 
forest  a  little  beyond  the  farthest  house,  indicating  to  Maudsley 
the  hidden  residence  of  her  who  was  all  the  world  to  him,  and 
who  yet  was  lost  to  him  forever. 

The  ground  immediately  around  him  was  rough  and  broken. 
Vast,  blackened  stumps,  looking  like  the  tomb-stones  of  the 
forest  patriarchs,  who  had  flourished  there  for  centuries,  en 
cumbered  the  soil,  and  among  them  were  thickly  strewn  the 
many  recent  and  rudely  finished  graves,  where  the  stricken 


140  MERRY-MOUNT. 


settlers,  day  after  day,  ever  since  their  arrival  in  that  desert, 
had  come  to  deposit  their  dead. 

There,  in  their  wild  resting-places,  hastily  and  scantily 
hidden  from  the  prowling  wolf,  slept  those  early  victims,  those 
obscure  but  unforgotten  martyrs.  The  soil  of  the  wilderness 
was  already  hallowed  ground,  and  if  England  contained  the 
ashes  of  their  forefathers,"  New  England  already  held  the  green 
graves  of  those  who  had  been  nearer  and  dearer  to  them. 

Maudsley  looked  on  for  a  few  moments  in  silence,  and  then 
stepping  forward,  he  gently  saluted  the  grave-digger, — 

"  'T  is  sorry  weather,  Goodman  Mellowes,  for  so  melancholy 
a  task  as  that  which  occupies  you,"  said  he,  "  and  your  strength 
seems  hardly  sufficient  to  accomplish  it." 

Mellowes  desisted  from  his  labor,  and  stared,  with  marks  of 
great  surprise,  at  the  individual  who  thus  suddenly  addressed 
him. 

"  Verily,  verily,"  said  he  at  last,  "  thou  hast  caused  me  to 
drink  of  the  wine  of  astonishment.  Lo !  is  it  not  Master  Mauds- 
ley  who  saluteth  me  1 " 

"  Most  truly,"  answered  Maudsley,  "  but  in  what  respect  is 
my  appearance  so  astounding?" 

"  Verily,  I  did  opine  that  you  had  long  since  returned  to  the 
flesh-pots  of  Egypt,"  answered  Faint-not  — "  and  yet  do  you 
now  present  yourself  to  me  thus  suddenly  in  fleshly  garb,  but 
pale  and  haggard,  and  rather  resembling  a  visitant  from  the  land 
of  spirits  than  the  stalwart  youth  whom  I  do  remember  some 
months  ago." 

"  I  have  been  indisposed  of  late  to  be  sure,"  answered  Mauds- 
ley,  "  but  I  hardly  thought  that  I  wore  such  a  death's  head  upon 
my  shoulders,  that  even  the  Naumkeak  grave-digger  would 
shrink  from  my  society.  But  be  of  good  heart,  my  worthy 
friend,  I  am  neither  ghost  nor  goblin,  and  furthermore,  rest 
assured  that  you  at  least  shall  not  have  the  task,  which  seems  no 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


trifling  one,  of  digging  a  grave  for  me  in  this  wilderness,  inas 
much  as  I  purpose  to  effect  my  retreat  before  that  last  friendly 
office  shall  be  necessary." 

"  Alas  !  worthy  master,"  replied  the  weaver,  "  I  regret  that  thy 
heart  hath  not  been  regenerated,  that  thou  mightest  know  how 
sweet  is  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  a  justified  person. 
But  while  I  am  prating  thus,  my  work  languisheth  ;  lo,  lam  for 
getful." 

So  saying,  the  grave  digger  again  applied  himself  to  his 
task. 

"  My  friend,"  said  Maudsley,  after  looking  compassionately 
at  the  feeble  Faint-not's  painful  efforts,  "  let  me  prove  to  you 
that  my  frame  is  not  so  exhausted  as  you  think.  Give  me  your 
instrument,  and  with  your  permission,  I  will  even  assist  you  in 
hollowing  out  this  trench.  A  grave  in  this  wilderness  will  be  a 
quiet  resting-place  enow,  even  if  an  unregenerate  hand  hath 
helped  to  dig  it." 

Notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  Goodman  Mellowes,  who 
was,  however,  nearly  fatigued  and  not  unwilling  to  be  relieved 
of  a  portion  of  his  labor,  Maudsley  took  the  spade  and  pick-axe, 
and  steadily  set  himself  to  his  voluntary  task.  There  was  a 
nameless  instinct  which  impelled  him  to  the  work,  besides  a 
simple  and  good  natured  desire  to  lighten  the  load  of  the  weary 
Mellowes. 

"  I  regret,  worthy  master,"  said  the  weaver,  continuing  his 
conversation,  as  he  stood  upon  the  outside  of  the  grave  and  occa 
sionally  directed  the  labor  of  his  companion  —  "I  regret,  in  very 
sooth,  that  thy  heart  is,  as  thou  callest  it,  still  unregenerate.  I 
do  remember  me  full  well,  how,  and  where,  and  at  what  very 
moment,  the  Lord  was  graciously  pleased  to  reveal  himself  to 
me.  It  was  of  an  October  evening,  five  years  now  past  and 
gone,  that,  at  three  quarters  past  nine  of  the  clock,  during  a 
smart  shower  of  rain,  even  as  I  was  taking  a  pipe  of  tobacco  in 


142  MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  kitchen  of  my  cottage  in  Great  Brixsted,  in  Suffolk,  my 
wife  and  children  being  then  all  soundly  asleep,  the  Holy  Ghost 
was  suddenly  pleased  to  descend  upon  me,  whereupon  I " 

"  I  pray  thee,  Goodman  Mellowes,"  said  Maudsley,  purposely 
cutting  short  the  worthy  but  somewhat  prosy  weaver's  history  of 
his  religious  experience,  to  which,  at  that  particular  moment,  he 
felt  no  inclination  to  listen, — "  I  pray  thee,  hast  thou  really  aban 
doned  Plymouth  and  established  thyself  permanently  at  Naum- 
keak  ? " 

"  Truly,  I  have,"  was  the  reply,  "  although  many  months  ago, 
I  did,  as  thou  knowest,  purpose  to  bring  my  children  and  wife 
even  back  to  New  Plymouth." 

"  I  recollect,"  replied  Maudsley,  still  busily  pursuing  his  task, 
"but  why  did  you  change  your  mind  ?  " 

"  Owing,  as  I  would  humbly  and  with  reverence  believe," 
answered  Faint-not,  "  to  a  special  interposition  of  Providence, 
who  deigned,  in  my  poor  behalf,  to  visit  me  corporeally,  wearing 
the  form  of  a  mortal  female,  but  who  seemeth  rather  to  my  appre 
hension,  as  one  wearing  the  garments  of  light." 

t£  Indeed  !  "  said  Maudsley  abstractedly,  and  paying  but  little 
attention  to  the  enigmatical  observation  of  his  companion. 

"  Aye,"  continued  the  other,  '*  although  Mistress  Esther  Lud- 
low  was  habited  in  fleshly  garments " 

"  Maudsley  started  as  the  name  struck  his  ear,  and  he  was 
upon  the  point  of  springing  from  the  grave.  He  checked  him 
self,  however,  by  a  sudden  impulse,  and  before  his  emotion  was 
observed  by  his  companion,  who  gravely  continued,  — 

"  Although  she  was  habited  in  the  garments  of  earth,  yet  did 
never  a  tabernacle  of  flesh  contain  a  more  precious  jewel.  She 
hath  been,  as  one  might  say,  the  guardian  angel,  under  Provi 
dence,  of  this  little  settlement." 

"  And  you  say,"  continued  Maudsley  in  a  husky  tone,  "  that 
she  was  the  cause  of  your  change  of  residence." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  143 


"  Verily  yes,"  said  Mellows,  "  for  besides,  that  I  was  never 
wholly  and  blindly  given  to  the  tenets  of  the  New  Plymouth 
church,  which,  to  my  poor  apprehension,  savor  more  of  strict 
and  absolute  separation  than " 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Maudsley  impatiently,  "  but  what 
of  Esther  Ludlow?" 

"  My  wife  was  dying,  my  children  were  sorely  ill,  and  almost 
famishing  —  I  was  homeless,  and  we  were  all  nigh  unto  perish. 
But  the  house  wherein  I  now  dwell,  and  which,  though  lowly,  is 
not  inferior  to  any  except  the  mansion  of  the  governor,  I  owe  to 
the  generosity  of  that  virtuous  maiden,  who,  moreover,  did  min 
ister  unto  my  helpmeet  when  she  was  sorely  stricken.  The  same 
wise  and  charitable  virgin,  moreover,  did  pour  out  upon  our 
hearts  the  oil  of  Christian  sympathy,  when  the  Lord  did  take 
away,  one  after  another,  all  our  blessed  babes." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Maudsley,  affected  by  the  uncouth  but  sin 
cerely  grateful  language,  with  which  the  devout  weaver 
acknowledged  his  obligation  to  Esther,  "  have  you  been  then  so 
unfortunate  as  to  be  left  wholly  childless  ?  " 

"  Truly,  the  Lord  gave  them  to  me,  and  he  hath  taken  them 
away,"  answered  Faint-not.  "  I  felt  poor  enough  when  they 
asked  me  for  bread,  and  I  had  naught  to  give  unto  them  but  a 
stone.  But  they  are  dead  now,  Master  Maudsley,  and  I  feel 
none  the  richer." 

Maudsley  addressed  a  few  common-place  words  of  consolation 
to  his  companion,  steadily,  the  meanwhile,  pursuing  his  work, 
at  which  he  had  been  so  diligent,  that  the  grave  was  now 
nearly  finished. 

"  A  little  more  hollowed  at  the  edges,  I  pray  thee,"  said 
Goodman  Mellowes,  indicating  to  Maudsley,  with  considerable 
pedantry  of  manner,  the  mode  in  which  the  bottom  of  the  grave 
should  be  finished.  "  Ah,  I  have  some  little  skill  at  the  busi 
ness,  albeit  I  was,  by  trade,  a  weaver,  and  have  also,  in  the 
wilderness,  performed  the  functions  of  goatsherd. 


144  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Truly,  the  shades  of  evening  are  approaching,"  continued 
he,  in  a  brisker  tone,  "  and  it  is  time  that  she  should  be  brought 
hither.  Her  grave  is  ready  now.  Alas!  poor  Esther  Ludlow  !  " 

Maudsley  sprang  from  the  grave  as  if  he  had  heard  the 
archangel's  trumpet.  An  indefinite,  icy  feeling,  had  withheld 
him  from  questioning  his  companion  as  to  the  health  and  present 
condition  of  Esther.  He  thought,  if  she  had  been  ill  or  suf 
fering,  that  the  garrulous  grave-digger  would  probably  have 
enlightened  him  on  the  matter,  and  yet  he  feared  to  hazard  a 
direct  question. 

At  the  last  words  uttered  by  Mellowes,  a  sudden  light  seemed 
to  flash  upon  him,  and  it  seemed  to  him,  that  he  had  now, 
blindly  obeying  the  instigations  of  a  fiend,  actually  come 
hither,  upon  the  night  before  his  departure  from  New  Eng 
land,  to  dig,  with  his  own  hands,  the  grave  of  his  beloved. 

He  confronted  the  grave-digger  with  a  countenance  of  ashy 
paleness. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  which  was  choked  to  a 
whisper,  and  which  was  yet  distinctly  and  fearfully  audible,  "  is 
this  the  grave  of  Esther  Ludlow  ?  " 

"  God  forbid  !  "  exclaimed  the  weaver,  who  believed  that  his 
eccentric  companion  had  lost  his  wits.  "  This  grave  is  intended 
for  Dame  Endicott,  the  spouse  of  the  worthy  governor.  Esther 
Ludlow,  God  be  praised,  is  alive  and  well." 

Maudsley  staggered  backward,  almost  insensible,  and  sank 
for  a  moment  upon  the  ground.  His  frame  enfeebled  by  long 
illness,  and  his  mind  exhausted  by  emotion,  had  both  lost  much 
of  their  elasticity.  He  found  time  to  recover  himself,  however, 
as  his  companion  continued,  — 

"  Dame  Endicott  hath  passed  away,  the  virtuous  spouse  of  the 
worthy  governor  of  this  colony.  In  my  mention  of  the  name  of 
Mistress  Ludlow,  I  did  but  compassionate  the  unavailing  exer 
tions  of  that  pious  virgin,  to  arrest  the  heavy  blow  which  hath 


MERRY-MOUNT.  145 


fallen  upon  this  worthy  family.  But  stay,  they  are  bringing  the 
corpse  hitherward,"  continued  he,  looking  towards  the  settle 
ment;  "yonder  come  the  mourners,  the  worthy  governor  and  his 
friends,  attended  by  Master  Ludlow  and  his  virtuous  sister." 

Maudsley  recovered  his  composure  at  once.  He  had  come 
hither,  determined  to  avoid  all  communication  with  any  of  the 
settlers,  most  of  all,  with  the  Ludlows.  He  was  unwilling  to 
meet  the  melancholy  company,  which  was  already  slowly 
picking  its  way  across  the  rugged  clearing  towards  the  rude 
burial-place.  He  accordingly  gave  a  few  hurried  directions  to 
Mellowes,  earnestly  forbidding  him  to  mention  their  interview, 
or  even  to  hint  that  he  was  still  in  the  country.  Upon  parting, 
he  presented  the  weaver  with  a  considerable  sum  of  money 
which  he  had  about  him,  and  for  which,  as  he  was  to  leave 
upon  the  next  day  for  England,  he  had  no  further  occasion. 
Instead,  however,  of  leaving  the  neighborhood,  he  concealed 
himself  beneath  the  foliage  of  a  white-pine  tree,  which  grew  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  grave,  and  calmly  awaited  the 
arrival  of  the  corpse.  Since  fate  had  so  willed  it,  he  was  even 
willing  to  look  once  more  upon  the  face  of  Esther,  although 
he  had  not  purposed  it,  and  till  that  moment  could  not  have 
believed  himself  possessed  of  the  necessary  courage. 

While  he  was  thus  establishing  himself  in  a  position  where  he 
could  see  without  being  seen,  the  company  had  reached  the  spot. 
Four  men  bore  the  coffin,  which  had  been  hastily  and  rudely 
fashioned  of  rough  boards,  and  gently  deposited  it  in  the  grave 
which  Maudsley's  hands  had  dug.  But  a  few  other  persons 
were  present,  besides  the  bereaved  Endicott,  Walter  Ludlow, 
and  his  sister. 

The  snow  was  falling  fast.  Ludlow  offered  up  a  fervent, 
extemporaneous  prayer,  but .  the  services  were  necessarily 
hurried,  for  the  storm  was  rapidly  increasing.  As  the  last 
words  of  the  prayer  were  spoken,  the  grave-digger  threw  the 

VOL.  n.  13 


146  MERRY-MOUNT. 


first  spadeful  of  hard  and  frozen  clods  upon  the  coffin.  The 
stern  visage  of  the  governor  was  convulsed  by  the  harsh  and 
rigid  sound,  and  a  single  tear  ran  down  his  iron  cheek.  He 
commanded  himself,  however,  and  stood,  an  image  of  simple 
and  pathetic  dignity,  erect,  uncovered,  offering  up  a  silent  prayer 
for  support  in  that  hour,  but  unbowed  by  the  misfortunes  and 
the  difficulties  which  were  thickening  around  him. 

"  It  was  not  my  design,"  said  he,  in  a  calm  voice,  "  that  she 
should  accompany  me  in  our  first  voyage  to  this  inhospitable 
wilderness.  I  would  have  urged  her  to  tarry  at  the  house  of  her 
kinsman  Cradock,  until  the  rough  places  had  been  smoothed  for 
her  feeble  footsteps,  but  she  would  not  be  gainsayed." 

As  Endicott  paused,  overcome  for  an  instant  by  his  emotion, 
Maudsley  at  last  heard  the  gentle  voice  of  Esther,  which  fell 
upon  his  ear  like  music,  although  he  could  not  accurately  un 
derstand  the  vvords  of  consolation  which  she  addressed  to  the 
mourner,  in  a  low  and  murmuring  tone. 

As  Esther  ceased  speaking,  the  company  slowly  left  the  spot, 
the  governor  remaining  a  little  after  the  rest,  and  then  walking 
homewards  with  unfaltering  step. 

When  they  had  all  departed,  Maudsley  stole  forth,  and  stood 
for  a  moment  by  that  lonely  grave. 

He  had  been  so  near  to  Esther,  during  the  whole  ceremony, 
that  her  robe  had  been  waved  against  him  by^  the  wind ;  he  had 
looked  upon  her  face,  he  had  listened  to  her  voice ;  and  now  that 
she  was  gone,  and  that  he  stood  alone  upon  that  desolate  spot, 
his  heart  seemed  to  be  dead  within  him. 

Upon  what  slender  threads  hang  the  destiny  of  blind  and 
erring  mortals  !  A  few  simple  words  might  have  been  exchanged 
between  the  grave-digger  and  himself,  which  would  have  swept 
forever  the  delusions  from  his  brain,  and  restored  happiness  to 
his  stormy  soul.  Twenty  words  which  might  have  been  spoken, 
instead  of  the  wandering  discourse  which  had  really  occurred 


MERRY-MOUNT.  147 


between  them,  and  much  of  the  mystery  might  have  been  dis 
pelled  forever,  which  now  seemed  to  envelope  his  fate.  But 
the  words  were  not  spoken,  and  a  wintry  sea  soon  rolled  between 
the  lovers. 

Maudsley  had  carefully  observed  the  exact  place  where  Esther 
had  stood,  and  he  now  knelt  down  and  passionately  kissed  the 
print  which  her  foot  had  left  upon  the  snow,  with  which  the 
earth  was  already  covered.  A  wreath  of  the  lowly,  trailing 
evergreen  grew  upon  that  spot  of  ground.  He  tore  off  a  little 
twig,  and  placed  it  carefully  in  his  bosom.  He  then  stood  till 
the  rapidly  descending  flakes  had  obliterated  every  vestige  of 
Esther's  presence,  and  then  he  left  the  place. 


148  MERRY-MOUNT. 


: 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  FALCON'S  LAST  FLIGHT. 

ON  a  bright  morning  in  September,  1630,  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner  and  Thomas  Morton  sat  together  in  a  small  apartment 
of  the  Merry-Mount  palace. 

More  than  eighteen  months  had  elapsed  since  the  events 
which  have  been  last  related,  but  although  the  political  aspect 
of  affairs  had  much  altered  during  that  interval,  the  relative  posi 
tion,  and  the  individual  fortunes  of  the  principal  personages  who 
have  figured  in  these  pages,  had  not  yet  been  materially  changed. 

Morton,  against  whom  nothing  of  importance  had  been  found 
in  England  to  warrant  his  detention,  or  to  justify  any  interfer- 
fence  with  his  rights  as  an  Englishman,  aided,  moreover,  by  the 
intervention  of  influential  friends,  had  returned  to  New  England 
during  the  past  year,  in  company  with  Isaac  Allerton,  the  confi 
dential  agent  and  leading  financier  of  the  Plymouth  colony,  who 
brought  him  out  from  England  in  the  capacity  of  secretary. 
The  banishment  which  had  been  inflicted  upon  him  accordingly 
proved  but  temporary,  and  upon  his  return,  he  had  forthwith 
established  himself  at  what  the  Puritans  called  his  "  old  nest  at 
Merry-Mount." 

The  number  of  his  retainers  or  subjects,  as  he  facetiously 
called  them,  had,  however,  very  much  diminished  during  his 
absence,  and,  with  the  exception  of  the  faithful  Bootefish,  the 
Canary  Bird,  and  one  or  two  stragglers  who  dwelt  in  the  adja 
cent  huts,  the  merry  potentate  now  reigned  in  solitary  grandeur- 
Peter  Cakebread  still  remained  in  the  employment  of  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner,  who  had  himself  been  absent  from  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  149 


neighborhood  of  Massachusetts,  no  human  being  knew  where  or 
wherefore,  and  who  had  returned  to  his  old  haunt,  still  accom 
panied  by  the  mysterious  Jaspar,  whom  he  called  his  cousin,  a 
short  time  previous  to  the  period  at  which  this  chapter  opens. 

The  room  in  which  they  sat  was  Morton's  sanctum.  The 
rude  rafters  were  adorned  with  trophies  of  the  chase,  with  Indian 
weapons,  and  with  countless  implements  for  fishing,  hunting 
and  hawking.  A  broken-winged  eagle,  partly  tamed  and  wholly 
melancholy  in  his  deportment,  hopped  disconsolately  about  the 
floor,  presenting  a  pathetic  emblem  of  deposed  and  degraded 
majesty,  but  occasionally  displaying  in  his  hoarse  and  indignant 
scream,  and  the  furious  blows  of  his  remaining  pinion,  that  the 
wings  of  his  spirit  at  least  were  not  yet  wholly  broken.  Upon  a 
rough  table,  stood  a  flask  of  some  very  transparent  fluid,  two  or 
three  pewter  mugs,  and  a  much  thumbed  copy  of  Horace,  bound 
in  vellum;  but  by  far  the  most  interesting  objects  in  the  room, 
were  two  hawks,  which  stood  upon  their  perches,  one  very  near 
the  head  of  Morton's  couch,  and  the  other  a  little  farther  re 
moved. 

Morton,  who  was  certainly  the  very  first,  and  probably  the 
very  last,  person  in  Massachusetts  who  ever  indulged  in  the 
graceful  diversion  of  hawking,  was  an  adept  in  that  art,  which 
was  at  that  moment  in  the  zenith  of  its  glory  in  Europe } 
although,  in  consequence  of  the  improvements  of  fire-arms,  it 
fell,  before  the  close  of  the  century,  into  total  disuse. 

He  was  at  that  moment,  while  conversing  with  Sir  Christo 
pher,  busily  employed  in  preparing  a  couple  of  feathers  or  flags, 
as  he  technically  called  them,  which  were  to  be  imped  or  inserted 
into  the  wing  of  one  of  his  favorite  hawks,  who  had  sustained 
some  trifling  damage  during  his  most  recent  exploits. 

"  And  so  you  tell  me,"  said  he,  continuing  the  conversation 
which   had   commenced  some  half  an  hour   before,  "  that  you 
13* 


150  MERRY-MOUNT. 


have  never  visited  Shawmut,  since  the  catastrophe  to  which  you 
allude  ? " 

"  Never,"  answered  the  knight,  with  a  gloomy  expression, 
"  and  by  heaven !  it  seems  as  if  an  evil  demon  dwelt  in  that 
lonely  spot,  into  whose  clutches  I  must  be  delivered  soul  and 
body,  should  I  dare  to  enter  his  accursed  circle." 

"  'T  is  strange,"  said  Morton,  holding  up  the  point  of  his 
feather  to  the  light,  and  examining  it  with  critical  nicety,  "  and 
yet  you  tell  me  that  it  was  a  fair  and  legitimate  duello,  and 
that  Peter  Cakebread  officiated  afterwards  as  sexton,  and  in. 
humed  the  body  as  decorously  as  circumstances  allowed  1  " 

Gardiner  made  a  slight  gesture  of  assent,  but  remained  in 
dark  and  frowning  silence. 

"  Poor  Harry  Maudsley  ! "  continued  Morton,  in  a  voice  of 
unaffected  sorrow,  "  an  unlucky  chance  sent  him  to  this  wilder, 
ness.  Poor  fellow !  I  had  a  sincere  sympathy  with  him.  He 
was  the  only  human  creature  whom  I  ever  met  with  in  this 
pagan  wilderness,  who  had  a  real  appreciation  for  the  polished 
strains  of  Flaccus.  I  would  to  heaven  he  had  remained  at 
home,  where,  as  I  have  been  informed,  his  connections  were 
highly  respectable.  Hadst  thou  ever  any  acquaintance  with  others 
of  the  Maudsley  family,  Sir  Kit  1 "  concluded  he  carelessly. 

"  No  more  of  this  !  "  cried  Gardiner,  with  sudden  and  passion 
ate  emphasis,  —  "no  more  of  the  stripling!  Alive,  he  wilfully 
crossed  my  path  till  I  crushed  him  against  my  will.  Dead, 
he  haunts  me  like  a  curse.  No  more  of  this,  I  say  !  " 

The  knight  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  strode  impatiently  about 
the  narrow  apartment,  with  the  supple,  muscular  restlessness  of 
a  caged  tiger.  At  last  he  flung  himself  upon  a  seat  again,  and 
said  in  an  altered  tone,  and  with  assumed  tranquillity, — 

"  The  lunatic  Blaxton  dwells  still  upon  his  peninsula,  and 
still  alone,  I  think  you  tell  me." 

"  Aye,"  answered  Morton,  observing,  without  comment,  the 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


singular  agitation  of  his  companion,  "  unless  he  hath  removed 
since  the  beginning  of  the  week,  which  is  not  likely.  Still  I 
think  he  shows  signs  of  great  impatience  since  the  arrival  of 
Winthrop's  colony  at  Charlestown,  as  the  Mishawum  promon 
tory,  it  seems,  must  now  be  designated." 

"  And  Walford  has  not  yet  been  forced  from  his  dwelling- 
place?" 

"  Not  yet,"  answered  Morton,  laying  his  feathers  carefully  upon 
the  table,  and  walking  round  the  chamber  in  search  of  some 
implement,  which  seemed  to  have  been  mislaid;  "  Walford  still 
remains,  but,  by  Jupiter,  he  hath  met  with  but  churlish  treat 
ment  from  the  psalm-singers,  who  have  taken  such  forcible  pos 
session  of  Canaan.  I  fear  he  will  soon  abandon  the  place  in 
disgust." 

"  He  shall  not  go  yet,  by  Saint  John,"  replied  the  knight,  "  I 
will  not  be  fooled  any  longer  thus.  As  for  John  Oldham, " 

"  Exactly,"  interrupted  Morton,  "  John  Oldham,  who  is  my 
very  good  friend  and  gossip  now,  having  been,  as  you  know, 
appointed  by  the  Plymouth  brethren  to  be  my  jailor  ;  John  Old- 
ham,  who  was  thoroughly  instructed  by  me  touching  the  legality 
of  his  own  lease,  and  of  the  Gorges  patent  in  general,  hath 
brought  all  the  influence  he  could  to  bear  against  the  Massa 
chusetts  company,  but  I  am  satisfied  now  that  it  is  to  be  unsuc 
cessful." 

"  By  heavens  !  "  said  the  knight,  impatiently,  "  they  shall  yet 
be  overturned  root  and  branches.  If  Sir  Ferdinando  had  been 
ruled  by  my  counsels,  all  this  business  would  have  never 
happened,  this  whole  territory  would,  at  this  moment,  have  been 
in  his  undisputed  possession,  and  I  should  have  been  Governor- 
General  of  New  England.  But  it  is  not  too  late  yet,  and  the 
knight  is  already  awaking  from  his  folly." 

"  With  submission  to  your  better  judgment,  Sir  Kit,"  an 
swered  Morton,  who,  with  characteristic  philosophy,  had  already 


152  MERRY-MOUNT. 


begun  to  look  upon  the  prostrate  position  of  his  airy  castles, 
with  something  of  a  child's  indifference,  at  the  destruction  of 
his  card  palace,  so  soon  as  the  first  ebullition  of  spleen  is  over, 
and  who  now  seemed  exceedingly  interested  in  the  amusement 
for  which  he  was  industriously  preparing,  "  I  very  much  fear 
that  the  right  worshipful  Sir  Ferdinando  hath  grown  marvellous 
ly  lukewarm  in  the  matter.  He  hath  wasted  so  much  gold  in 
this  business,  that  he  hath  begun  to  draw  his  purse-string  very 
tightly.  Your  vigorous  demand  for  men  and  money  somewhat 
appalled  him  two  years  ago." 

"  He  is  no  such  niggardly  coward,  I  tell  you,  Morton," 
replied  Gardiner,  peremptorily.  "  His  letters  still  speak  warmly 
and  encouragingly." 

'*  Perhaps  so,"  answered  Morton,  "  but  it  is  still  my  opinion 
that  Sir  Ferdinando's  zeal  hath  very  much  abated  of  late. 
Since  the  last  triumph  which  the  Puritans  achieved  in  obtain 
ing  so  suddenly  and  secretly  the  transfer  of  the  charter  itself 
into  New  England,  our  friends  have  been  very  much  dis 
heartened,  and  look,  I  fear,  upon  our  enterprise  as  hopeless. 
So  many  people  of  wealth  and  station,  both  among  those  who 
have  emigrated,  and  those  who  remain  in  England  to  assist  the 
colony,  make  their  party  very  strong." 

"  By  heaven,  his  zeal  shall  not  cool,  while  I  have  a  voice  to 
warn  him,"  cried  Gardiner,  angrily. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Morton,  carelessly,  "  thou  mayest  be  in 
the  right  after  all,  —  '  Nil  mortalibus  arduumj  —  but  I  own  that 
things  are  looking  slightly  complicated.  Here,  Ajax !  come 
here,  my  old  hero !  "  With  this  Morton  whistled  in  a  peculiar 
note  to  one  of  his  hawks. 

There  were  two  of  these  birds  stationed  upon  their  perches 
in  the  room.  Of  these,  the  one  which  was  nearest  the  bedside, 
was  hooded  and  belled,  having  not  yet  been  so  thoroughly 
trained  as  his  companion.  It  was  a  large  peregrine  falcon, 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


the  bird  which,  after  the  ger  falcon,  which  is  unknown  in 
Massachusetts,  was  most  esteemed  for  his  strength,  docility, 
and  audacity.  Being  a  haggard,  that  is  to  say,  a  bird  who 
had  been  taken  after  he  was  full  grown,  and  had  accord 
ingly  hunted  upon  his  own  account,  he  had  been  more  diffi 
cult  to  reclaim  and  man,  although,  under  the  skilful  tuition 
of  Morton,  he  was  already  admirably  and  almost  perfectly 
trained.  As,  however,  he  still  retained  a  little  of  his  native 
wildness,  Morton  kept  his  perch  near  his  bedside,  that  he  might 
constantly  call  to  him  and  arouse  him  frequently  during  the 
night,  so  that  he  might  never  forget  the  sound  of  his  voice  or 
the  habit  of  obedience.  He  was  also,  unlike  his  companion, 
not  allowed  to  use  his  eyes  when  at  home,  and  as  he  stood  there 
reposing  upon  his  perch,  with  his  leathern  hood,  surmounted  by 
an  artificial  crest  of  plumes,  drawn  closely  over  his  head, 
through  which  only  his  curved  and  martial  beak  was  allowed  to 
protrude,  with  his  wings  hanging  motionless  at  his  side,  exposing 
to  view  his  broad  chest,  whose  lighter-colored  feathers  were 
plaited  closely  upon  each  other  like  a  shirt  of  mail,  with  his 
sinewy  legs  terminated  by  immense  yellow  pounces  and  long 
golden  spurs,  he  presented  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  some  fierce 
warrior  monk,  brooding  in  slothful  and  gloomy  captivity. 

The  other  bird,  a  little  larger  in  size  than  the  falcon,  was  a 
goshawk,  who  sat  quietly  but  unhooded  upon  her  perch,  glanc 
ing  restlessly  at  every  thing  around  her,  with  her  large  hazel 
eye.  Being  an  "  eyess,"  that  is  to  say,  a  bird  whom  Morton 
had  taken  from  the  nest,  and  brought  up  in  natural  lameness, 
she  was  as  obedient  to  her  master's  voice  as  the  best  trained 
spaniel,  and  as  thoroughly  accomplished  a  creature  as  could  have 
been  found,  at  that  moment,  in  either  hemisphere.  The  bird's 
eye  flashed  quickly,  as  she  heard  her  master's  whistle,  and 
fluttering  directly  from  her  perch,  she  settled  upon  Morton's 
fist.  The  sportsman  fondled  the  noble  creature,  stroked  her 


154  MERRY-MOUNT. 


back  caressingly  with  his  hand,  and  gave  her  a  few  bits  of  meat, 
from  the  scattered  fragments  of  his  own  breakfast,  which  still 
remained  upon  the  table. 

"  'T  is  a  gallant  hawk,  by  St.  John,"  said  Gardiner,  looking 
at  the  bird  with  admiration,  "  and  fit  for  an  emperor." 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir  Christopher,  not  for  an  emperor,"  said 
Morton ;  "  and  although  I  know  you  skilled  in  the  generous 
craft,  yet  I  find  you  not  so  conversant  as  a  knight  of  your  degree 
should  be,  with  the  scale  of  precedence  among  falcons.  An 
eagle  is  for  an  emperor,  a  ger  falcon  for  a  king,  a  peregrine  fal 
con  for  an  earl " 

"For  an  earl!"  cried  Gardiner;  "and  what  do  you  then 
with  yonder  fellow  in  the  leathern  night-cap,  for  he  is  a  peregrine 
if  I  know  a  hawk  from  a " 

"  From  a  hernshaw,  as  the  immortal  swan  of  Avon  hath  it," 
interrupted  Morton ;  "  but  you  forget  that  when  thou  art  Prince 
Palatine  of  Massachusetts,  I  am  to  be  Earl  of  Merry-Mount. 
In  the  mean  time  I  have  even  solaced  myself  with  manning  and 
reclaiming  yonder  fellow,  who,  from  as  wild  a  haggard  as  ever 
preyed  upon  crows  and  pigeons,  is  now  as  well  bred  a  falcon  as 
ever  flew." 

"  And  what  is  a  simple  knight  to  do  for  a  hawk  ?  "  said  Gar 
diner,  humoring  his  companion,  who  loved  nothing  better  than 
to  indulge  the  quaint  vein  of  pedantry,  which,  upon  all  sporting 
topics,  so  particularly  characterized  his  mind ;  "  what  is  a  poor 
errant  knight  to  do  for  a  hawk,  if  the  great  dignitaries  have  thus 
monopolized  the  varieties?" 

"  Marry,  the  sacret  is  for  a  knight,"  answered  Morton,  "  and 
the  devil  a  one  is  to  be  found  in  New  England." 

"  Then  the  knight  must  even  content  himself  with  the  gos 
hawk,"  answered  Gardiner,  "  and  if  there  be  many  like  that 
fellow  upon  your  fist  there,  I  could  even  content  myself  with  the 
exchange." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  155 


"So  the  bird  hath  been  injured?"  continued  Gardiner, 
looking  with  a  sportsman's  interest  at  the  wing  which  Morton 
had  now  opened,  and  in  which  he  was  inserting  the  two  feathers 
which  he  had  prepared  in  a  most  artistic  manner  to  replace  two 
which  had  been  broken  from  the  pinion. 

"  Slightly,"  answered  Morton;  "but  there,  my  trusty  warrior, 
thy  wing  is  imped,  and  thou  art  whole  again,  off  to  thy  perch." 
As  Morton  spoke,  the  obedient  bird  fluttered  to  his  station  again, 
where  he  remained  as  motionless  as  before. 

"  Let  me  now  entreat  your  attention,"  said  Sir  Christopher, 
with  much  earnestness.  "  As  you  value  my  friendship,  and  the 
fulfilment  of  your  ambitious  hopes,  beware  of  prematurely  offend 
ing  these  Puritans  of  Massachusetts,  as  thou  hast  done  those  of 
Plymouth." 

"Marry,  Sir  Christopher,  I  am  schooled,"  answered  Morton; 
"but  touching  my  ambitious  hopes,  their  wings  have  heen 
marvellously  clipped  of  late,  and  indeed,  I  have  received  some 
warnings  of  a  contemplated  invasion  of  my  dominion,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  great  Joshua  himself." 

"And  who  in  the  devil's  name  is  the  great  Joshua  ?"  de 
manded  Gardiner. 

"  The  great  Joshua  Temperwell,  — heaven  save  the  mark, — 
know  you  not  the  great  Joshua  ?  "  replied  Morton.  "  Who  should 
he  be  but  the  great  governor  of  the  Puritans,  the  man  who  hath 
borne  out  into  the  wilderness  the  ark  of  the  covenant,  videlicet, 
the  charter  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Company,  who  should  it  be 
but  the  great  King  Winthrop,  John  the  first,  Dei  Gratia?" 

"And  do  you  mean  that  you  have  been  threatened  with  an 
attack  on  the  part  of  Winthrop  1 "  asked  Gardiner  impatiently. 

"  Even  so,"  was  the  reply ;  "  they  hold  solemn  courts  over  at 
Mishawum  yonder,  in  a  lumbering  tenement  which  they  call  the 
great  house,  where  they  wag  their  grizzled  beards  in  each  others' 
faces,  and  ponder  unutterable  things,  with  all  the  gravity  of 


156  MERRY-MOUNT. 


owls.  I  have  a  shrewd  notion  that  they  mean  to  cite  me  before 
their  august  tribunal,  although  what  crime  I  have  committed  I 
have  not  yet  discovered." 

"  They  will  not  dare  to  do  so,  by  heaven  !  "  cried  Sir  Chris 
topher  ;  "  the  rebuff  which  the  accusations  brought  against  you  by 
the  Plymouth  brethren  met  with  must  have  taught  them  wisdom." 
"  I  know  not.  These  same  brethren  are  never  taught  wis 
dom,"  answered  Morton,  "  seeing  that  they  are  all  born  into  the 
world  as  wise  as  serpents,  if  not  as  harmless  as  doves." 

As  he  spoke,  Morton  shouted  to  his  attendant  Bootefisb,  — 
"  Come  hither,  thou  prelate,  thou  grave  and  reverend  digni 
tary,"   he  cried,   "  and  attend  us  in  our  sports.     Although  the 
canons  of  the  church  most  expressly  forbid  hawking  to  the  clergy, 
and  thou  art  in  training  for  a  bishop,  yet  we  well  know  that  the 
clergy  have  been  devoted  to  the  amusement  from  time  immemo 
rial,   and   despite   the  prohibition.      Perhaps  'tis  not  the   only 
forbidden  pleasure  which  holy  men  have  permitted  themselves. 
Now,  Sir  Kit,  if  thou  wilt  descend   to  the   marshes,  thou  shalt 
see  how  a  New  England  hawk  can  fly." 

"  I  am  here,  your  worship,"  answered  Bootefish,  presenting 
his  rubicund  visage  at  the  doorway. 

"  Bring  us  then  the  poles  and  the  game-bags,  most  reverend 
bishop,  and  hold  thyself  in  readiness  to  take  charge  of  my  hawks 
when  our  sport  is  over.  The  Bishop  of  Ely,  in  bluff  King 
Henry's  day,  excommunicated  seven  persons  who  stole  his  falcon. 
Do  thou  not  only  excommunicate,  but  flagellate  any  living  man, 
be  he  pagan  or  Puritan,  who  should  dare  to  meddle  with  my 
hawks." 

So  speaking,  Morton,  who  had   already  hooded   Gaunt,  now 

proceeded  to  hood  and  bell  Ajax,  and  taking  the  haggard  upon 

his  own  fist,  he  brought  the  other  to  Sir  Christopher,  saying, — 

"  Although   I  kept  Gaunt   in  Tom  Wai  ford's  smithy  for  ten 

days,  to  tame  him  with  the  sound  of  the  hammering,  yet  is  he 


MERRY-MOUNT.  157 


not  yet  manned  enough  to  sit  upon  other  fist  than  my  own. 
Therefore  you  will  even  take  Ajax,  and  a  better  goshawk  never 
flew  a  flight." 

"  Willingly,"  answered  Gardiner,  "  but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
marvel  at  your  nomenclature.  Both  these  hawks  being  female, 
as  they  should  be,  the  female  of  all  falcons  being  the  fiercest 
and  strongest,  't'is  strange  you  should  thus  accommodate  them 
with  names  of  the  other  gender." 

"  Thou  art  right,"  answered  Morton,  "  and  't  is  a  humor  of 
mine  own.  The  only  matter  in  the  noble  craft  of  hawkincr 

•/  O 

which  mislikes  me,  is  this  very  unsexing  of  the  species  Sooth 
to  say,  I  never  saw  a  tercel  gentle,  in  company  with  his  fero 
cious  spouse,  who  was,  sans  compliment,  his  better  half,  without 
offering  up  a  silent  thanksgiving,  that  among  my  other  misfor 
tunes,  that  of  matrimony  hath  not  yet  befallen  me.  Such 
unequal  and  uncomfortable  matches  are  sometimes  the  lot  even 
of  the  lords  of  creation.  What  think  you  of  the  institution  of 
matrimony  in  general,  Sir  Kit,  both  as  regards  the  genus  falco 
and  the  genus  homo  ?  " 

The  countenance  of  Gardiner  looked  ferocious  and  forbidding 
again,  as  Morton,  who  seemed  peculiarly  unlucky  in  his  allusions 
that  morning,  made  this  careless  query.  He  answered  nothing, 
however,  and  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount,  not  observing  his  com 
panion's  mood,  continued,  — 

"  'T  is  for  this  reason,"  he  said,  "  that  I  choose,  thus  arbi 
trarily,  to  designate  my  favorites.  I  choose  not  to  associate  any 
thing  ferocious  with  the  female  idea,  which,  to  my  mind,  should 
never  awaken  any  images  but  the  gentlest  and  most  caressing. 
And  accordingly,  if " 

"Doth  the  pestilence  still  continue  in  the  bay,  among  the 
settlers  at  Naumkeak  and  Charlestown? "  said  Gardiner,  ab 
ruptly  changing  the  conversation. 

VOL     II.  14 


158  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Yes,  the  poor  devils  are  undergoing  a  severe  seasoning," 
answered  Morton,  leading  the  way  out  of  the  pnlace,  followed 
by  Gardiner  and  Bootefish  —  "They  are  dying  very  fast  of  the 
scurvy  and  fever.  No  people  but  Puritans  could  bear  such  pep 
pering,  but  they  are  a  generation  apart,  I  believe,  and  would 
live  through  all  the  plagues  of  Egypt." 

"  And  I  suppose  they  have  poor  medical  attendance,  and  a 
scanty  supply  of  drugs,"  said  Gardiner,  who  seemed  to  take 
a  particular  pleasure  in  dwelling  upon  the  sufferings  of  the 
settlers. 

"  Why,  as  to  that,"  answered  Morton,  "  they  have  the  illus 
trious  Doctor  Noddy,  the  great  soul-saver,  and  body-snatcher  of 
New  Plymouth." 

"And  who  and  what  may  the  illustrious  Noddy  be?"  said 
Gardiner,  "  preacher  or  physician  1 " 

"Both  the  one  and  the  other,"  answered  Morton,  "  the  illus 
trious  Noddy,  whom  mortals  call  Fuller,  is,  as  we  should  say  at 
Clifford's  Inn,  a  '  qui  tarn1  doctor,  administering  quite  as  much 
to  the  spiritual  as  the  bodily  ailments  of  his  patients  —  one,  in 
short,  who  maketh  a  point  of  preparing  his  victims  for  heaven, 
as  a  compensation  for  abridging  their  allotted  period  upon 
earth." 

"  Would  he  might  send  them  all,  men,  women,  and  children, 
every  crop-eared  prophecier  of  them  all,  even  to  Abraham's 
bosom,"  cried  the  knight  savagely.  "  By  heavens !  I  could  hug 
the  very  pestilence,  which  has  strode  hither  to  fight  so  fiercely 
in  my  behalf!  May  they  wither  like  frost-bitten  weeds  !  may  they 
perish  like  famished  wolves,  the  prowling  hypocrites  !  " 

"  A  cordial  anathema,"  replied  Morton,  in  a  cheerful  tone, 
<(  but  I  hardly  sympathize  with  your  ferocity.  I  arn  not  of  an 
atrabilious  temperament.  Perhaps  I  should  have  been  more  use; 
ful  if  I  had  been  less  good-natured.  What  they  intend  against 
rne,  I  know  not.  The  Plymouth  brethren  would  have  had  me 


MERRY-MOUNT.  159 


hung,  but  marriage  and  hanging  go  by  destiny,  and  the  hemp 
is  not  yet  grown  that  is  to  serve  me  for  a  neck-cloth." 

"I  have  already  spoken  to  you  concerning  the  necessity  of 
caution  upon  these  matters,"  answered  Gardiner,  "  but  one  word 
more  concerning  this  pestilence.  You  say  that  this  Noddy  or 
Fuller  is  the  only  quack  whom  they  are  provided  with.  Hath  he 
skill  in  his  craft?" 

"  Unquestionably,"  said  Morton,  "  he  cured  the  great  Captain 
Littleworth,  whom  the  settlers  call  John  Endicott,  of  a  desperate 
disease." 

"I  was  not  aware,"  said  Gardiner,  "that  Endicott  had  been 
afflicted  by  any  illness." 

"  He  was  troubled,"  said  Morton,  "  with  a  chronic  disease 
called  a  wife,  and  Doctor  Fuller  relieved  him  thereof  hand 
somely." 

"  Aye,  I  heard,"  said  Gardiner,  "that  Madam  Endicott  sank 
early  under  the  climate.  I  did  not  know  the  part  which  Doctor 
Fuller  played  in  the  matter." 

"  T  was  his  masterpiece,"  continued  Morton.  "  But  now, 
Mistress  Gaunt,  if  it  like  Sir  Christopher  better,  I  will  even  give 
thee  one  trial  in  the  air,  before  we  look  for  any  game." 

They  were  standing  at  this  moment  upon  that  long,  elevated 
knoll,  to  which  the  name  of  Merry-Mount  peculiarly  belonged, 
and  upon  which  the  hands  of  its  sovereign  had  erected,  and  the 
hands  of  Endicott  demolished,  the  first  May-pole  ever  elevated 
in  Massachusetts.  The  scene  around  was  still  unchano-ed. 

O 

The  barren  cliff,  destitute  of  trees,  was  covered  with  a  scanty 
herbage,  and  adorned  with  a  few  stunted  golden-rods,  a  goodly 
store  of  mullens,  and  a  profusion  of  the  aromatic  weed  called 
everlasting,  which  loves  the  most  gravelly  and  barren  soil. 
From  this  elevated  summit  the  eye  wandered  with  delight  on 
that  magnificent  September  morning,  over  the  panorama  of  land 
and  ocean,  which  glowed  and  sparkled  in  the  bright  sunshine 
and  the  invigorating  breeze. 


160  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Morton,  who  had  been  caressing  the  beautiful  falcon,  which  sat 
upon  his  fist,  during  his  rambling  conversation  with  Sir  Christo 
pher,  now  advanced  a  few  yards  into  the  wind.  He  then  stopped, 
turned  about,  and  suddenly  unstriking  her  hood,  tossed  her 
into  the  air  with  an  encouraging  shout.  'The  falcon  expanded 
her  strong  wings  with  an  impulse  of  delight,  and  rose  directly 
over  head,  mounting  in  airy  circles  higher  and  still  higher,  till 
diminished  to  a  hardly  perceptible  point,  she  hung  stationary  for 
a  moment,  in  the  blue  depths  above.  Then,  as  if  recormoitering 
the  world  below,  and  searching  for  a  quarry,  she  sailed  slowly 
along  with  gently  flapping  wings,  until,  apparently  disappointed 
in  her  observations,  she  commenced  again  her  spiral  ascent  till 
she  was  lost  to  view.  Morton  now  whistled.  The  piercing  note 
seemed  to  penetrate  the  arch  above.  There  was  a  moment  of 
suspense,  during  which  nothing  was  visible  in  the  sky,  and  Sir 
Christopher,  who  had  been  watching  the  falcon's  motions  with 
eager  interest,  shook  his  head  suspiciously  at  Morton,  as  if  to 
intimate  that  the  haggard  had  borne  away  her  bells  after  all,  and 
was  not  likely  to  obey  her  master's  whistle.  Morton  answered 
the  look  with  a  confident  smile,  pointing  upwards  as  he  did  so. 
At  that  moment  the  black  point  was  again  visible,  at  the  next 
there  was  a  rushing  sound,  and  the  hawk  falling  through  the 
air  with  closed  wings,  and  with  the  speed  of  lightning,  suddenly 
settled,  as  if  by  enchantment,  upon  her  master's  fist. 

"  Bravely  done,  sweetheart !  "  said  Morton,  patting  and  fond 
ling  the  obedient  bird.  "I'd  trust  thee  with  a  thousand  golden 
guineas,  had  I  so  much  filthy  lucre  ;  and  now  to  look  for  some 
thing  to  strike  at.  If  a  gaggle  of  geese  would  come  by  now,  for 
it  is  time  they  should  begin  to  congregate  hither  on  their  journey 

southwards but  who  comes  here  ?  the  gentle  Jaspar,  as  I 

live,"  continued  Morton,  who  had  been  hooding  his  falcon 
again,  and  who  now  courteously  saluted  the  new  comer. 

"  I   had    almost  grown   weary   of  waiting,"    said   the  youth, 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


acknowledging  the  civility  of  Morton,  "  and  had  I  not  known 
that  the  long  and  unutterable  ponderings  between  you  and  my 
cousin  were  something  tedious,  I  should  even  have  broken  in 
upon  your  consultations.  However,  my  patience  hath  been 
well  rewarded  Of  every  thing  which  is  delightful  in  the  world, 
a  falcon's  flight  is  most  delightful." 

"  Spoken  like  a  young  cavalier,"  said  Morton  gaily,  "  and 
now  let  us  descend  upon  the  marshes." 

With  this  the  sporting  humorist  led  the  way  down  the  hill, 
and  advanced  alonor  the  creek,  which  meandered  through  the 

O  3 

salt  marsh,  by  which  his  domiin  was  separated  from  the  ocean. 
They  now  began  to  move  very  cautiously,  because,  as  the  season 
had  already  commenced,  during  which  those  meadows,  and  par 
ticularly  the  neighborhood  of  that  creek,  were  the  resort  of 
innumerable  water-fowl,  including  many  of  the  varieties  which 
yield  the  greatest  amusement  in  falconry,  Morton  feared  to  flush 
the  game  before  he  desired  it. 

"  Having  no  spaniel  just  at  this  moment  at  Merry-Mount," 
said  he  to  Sir  Christopher,  "I  have  even  brought  the  dignified 
Bootefish  along  with  me  to  spring  the  fowl.  Robin  Bootefish, 
by  the  way,  is  destined  for  my  chief  falconer  when  I  receive  my 
earldom." 

"Besides  which,"  added  Gardiner,  "  thou  art  thyself  to  be 
hereditary  grand  falconer  of  all  the  Massachusetts." 

"I  have  no  objection,"  answered  Morton,  "  to  any  number  of 
dignities,  but  a  truce  to  trifling  now,  for  this  business  must  not 
be  neglected." 

Bootefish  now  advanced  carefully,  at  a  considerable  distance 
in  front  of  the  others,  holding  a  long  pole  in  his  hand. 
Gardiner  held  the  goshawk's  jesses  loosely  in  his  fingers,  and 
held  himself  ready  to  unstrike  her  hood,  as  Morton  designed 
that  Ajax  should  fly  at  the  game,  which  was  first  started,  in 
order  to  afford  a  lesson  to  the  haggard. 
14* 


162  MERRY-MOUNT. 


As  had  been  rightly  conjectured,  Bootefish  had  not  advanced 
very  far,  before  he  came  suddenly  upon  a  stray  black  duck,  who 
happened  to  be  feeding  by  himself  in  the  plashy  ground  near  the 
creek.  The  fowl  rose  screaming  into  the  air,  to  the  height  of 
some  dozen  yards,  and  then  flew  in  a  straight  line,  and  with 
great  rapidity,  almost  directly  over  the  heads  of  Morton  and 
Gardiner.  The  knight,  as  quick  as  thought,  jerked  off  the  hood 
from  the  goshawk,  and  tossed  her  after  her  prey.  The  well- 
trained  creature,  her  eyes  flashing  upon  the  quarry  with  un 
erring  instinct,  flew  like  lightning  at  her  victim.  Straight  as 
an  arrow  flew  the  duck,  with  the  velocity  of  the  wind.  With 
incredible  swiftness  the  falcon  pierced  the  air  in  his  pursuit. 
Five  minutes  elapsed,  and  the  pursuer  and  the  pursued,  flying  in 
a  perfectly  straight  line  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  to  the  minute,  had 
entirely  disappeared  from  view.  The  sportsmen,  using  their 
long  poles  to  assist  them  in  leaping  continually  across  the  wind 
ing  creek,  in  which  exercise  none  was  more  adroit  than  Jaspar, 
followed  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  direction  first  taken  by  the 
duck,  which  was  obliquely  across  the  marshes,  towards  the  sea. 
Morton  paused  at  last,  and  shook  his  head.  The  duck  had 
flown  so  low,  so  straight,  and  with  such  wonderful  rapidity,  that 
he  deemed  it  almost  impossible  for  the  hawk  to  have  overtaken 
him.  As  the  party  stood,  however,  breathless  with  their  violent 
exercise,  very  near  the  margin  of  the  sea,  a  black  speck  in  the 
air  became  suddenly  visible  to  the  eagle  eye  of  Gardiner,  who 
pointed  it  out  to  his  companions. 

"You  are  right,  by  Jupiter,  Sir  Christo!"  cried  Morton, 
"  the  quarry  has  doubled  upon  her  pursuer,  and  has  lost  the 
advantage  of  his  straight  flight.  Ten  thousand  pounds  to  a 
guinea,  he  is  a  dead  duck  in  five  minutes." 

As  Morton  spoke,  the  quarry  flew  again  over  their  heads,  at 
about  double  the  height  at  which  he  had  started  upon  his 
course,  and  with  somewhat  diminished  rapidity.  He  had  evi- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  1(33 


dently  become  disconcerted  and  confused  by  his  fears,  and  now 
flew  wildly  and  with  frequent  windings.  The  falcon,  steady  and 
unrelenting  as  destiny,  followed  close  upon  him,  gaining  at  every 
turn.  It  was  now  that  the  chase  became  keenly  interesting. 
The  quarry,  flying  swiftly  still,  but  in  irregular  circlings,  and 
hotly  pursued  by  her  enemy,  was  easily  kept  in  sight  by  the 
active  sportsmen,  who  dashed  hither  and  thither,  running  and 
leaping  in  every  direction  taken  by  the  game.  The  airy  chase 
rapidly  approached  its  termination.  The  unfortunate  victim, 
distracted  and  despairing,  flew  with  diminished  vigor.  Already 
the  wings  of  her  enemy  seemed  to  overshadow  him,  when  sud 
denly  the  falcon  rose  high  into  the  air  above  his  head,  mounting 
in  short  and  rapid  circles. 

"Mark  now,  Sir  Christopher,"  said  Morton,  looking  with 
delight  at  the  motions  of  his  favorite,  "  mark  now  how  beauti 
fully  she  is  going  to  stoop." 

The  words  had  scarcely  left  his  lips,  when  the  peculiar,  hurt 
ling  noise  was  heard,  and  the  goshawk,  falling  through  the  air 
like  a  meteor,  struck  the  quarry  with  her  pounces,  and  despite 
its  struggles,  flew  upwards,  holding  it  aloft  in  triumph. 

"Beautifully  trussed,  by  Jupiter!"  cried  Morton,  whistling 
loudly  as  he  spoke. 

The  obedient  hawk  descended  to  her  master's  call,  and  laid  the 
palpitating  body  of  her  victim,  whom  she  had  beaten  to  death  with 
her  muscular  pinions,  directly  at  her  master's  feet.  That  done, 
she  settled  upon  his  fist  again,  shaking  her  silver  bells,  and 
turning  her  lustrous  eye  upon  his,  as  if  to  read  his  approbation 
there. 

"  Prettily  done,  Mistress  Ajax ! "  said  Morton,  who  had  in 
the  mean  time  consigned  the  other  falcon  for  an  instant  to  Boote- 
fish,  that  he  might  hold  and  caress  the  goshawk  for  an  instant. 
He  had  hardly  resumed  possession  of  the  haggard,  who  was 
intended  by  him  to  fly  at  the  next  game  which  was  started,  when 


164  MERRY-MOUNT. 


a  hoarse  cry  of  "  whauk,  whauk,  whauk,"  sounded  suddenly  in 
the  air,  far  above  their  heads.  Quickly  as  lightning  did  Morton 
launch  the  falcon  into  the  air. 

"  Now,  my  gentle  peregrine,  show  the  mettle  you  are  made 
of,"  cried  he,  "  for  yonder  comes  the  first  gaggle  of  geese  I  have 
seen  this  season.  Strike  me  now  one  of  those  screamers,  goose 
or  gander,  I  care  not,  and  prove  to  me  that  the  pains  taken  for 
your  education  have  not  been  all  in  vain." 

The  falcon,  who  flew  that  day  for  the  first  time  without  a  leash, 
rose  like  a  rocket  into  the  air.  Singling,  without  hesitation,  one 
from  out  the  noisy  flock  of  some  twenty  or  thirty  wild  geese,  who 
were  swiftly  winging  their  way  from  the  north,  not  expecting 
such  inhospitable  treatment  upon  their  arrival,  he  scattered  con 
fusion  and  dismay  among  them  all.  Uttering  discordant  screams, 
the  flock  flew  hither  and  thither,  seeking  each  to  escape,  by  the 
best  means  it  could,  the  fearful  enemy. 

"  Looks  yon  falcon  now,"  cried  Morton,  as  all  the  sportsmen 
together  dashed  off  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  hawk,  "  looks 
she  not  like  a  glorious  old  piratical  Norman  baron,  pursuing 
a  shrieking  horde  of  base-born  peasantry?  Upon  them,  my 
jovial  freebooter,  down  with  the  churls.  Gloriously  struck,  by 
Jupiter ! " 

While  he  was  speaking,  the  falcon,  true  to  her  breeding  and 
her  instinct,  had  selected  and  overtaken  her  quarry.  Then  sud 
denly  stooping,  she  extended  her  enormous  pounces,  seized  her 
victim  with  prodigious  force,  and  broke  its  neck  with  one  blow 
of  her  beak.  Finding  the  dead  body  of  her  game  too  heavy  to 
be  raised  aloft  for  an  instant,  and  yet  desirous  of  obeying  her 
master's  whistle,  which  sounded  as  soon  as  she  struck  the 
quarry,  she  was  obliged  to  fly  obliquely  to  the  ground,  bringing 
with  her  the  dead  fowl,  which  she  obediently  deposited  at  her 
master's  feet. 

"  A  hawk  of  a  thousand,"    cried    Sir    Christopher,  looking 


MERRY-MOUNT.  165 

with  admiration  at  the  gallant  bird  ;  "  call  her  haggard  no  longer, 
for  my  life  for  it,  there  never  flew  a  stauncher  or  more  obedient 
falcon  than  she  hath  proved  herself." 

"  Truly  hath  she  done  no  discredit,"  answered  Morton,  "  to 
her  trainer,  the  future  grand  falconer  of  the  Massachusetts." 

So  saying,  he  rewarded  the  hawk  by  tearing  out  the  palpita 
ting  heart  of  the  game,  and  presenting  it  to  her.  The  hawk 
having  devoured  the  morsel  with  relish,  was  now  again  hooded, 
and  the  party  proceeded  in  search  of  more  game. 

There  was  no  lack  of  it  that  day.  Those  wide  marshes  which 
skirted  the  sea  abounded  in  water-fowl,  and  it  was  the  com 
mencement  of  the  season  when  many  varieties  are  just  making 
their  appearance  on  their  way  from  the  north.  Ducks,  brant- 
geese,  curlews,  were  started  from  their  feeding  places  in  every 
direction.  The  hawks  behaved  well,  the  peregrine  falcon  estab 
lished  her  reputation  forever,  and  the  party  had  as  much  sport  as 
they  desired. 

They  had  been  reposing  for  a  little  time,  being  somewhat 
tired  themselves,  and  desirous  of  affording  some  respite  to  the 
indefatigable  falcons.  Indeed,  both  Gardiner  and  Jaspar  had 
been  quite  satisfied  with  their  morning's  amusement,  and  were 
upon  the  point  of  abandoning  the  sport  altogether.  Morton, 
who  was  never  weary  of  the  chase,  and  was  particularly  devoted 
to  falconry,  reluctantly  consented  to  accompany  them. 

A  little  sport  was,  however,  in  reserve  for  the  party.  As  they 
were  passing  leisurely  along  the  border  of  the  creek,  upon  their 
way  toward  Merry-Mount,  they  suddenly  surprised  an  enormous 
blue  heron,  who  stood  fishing  in  the  stream.  It  was  some 
unusual  accident  which  had  allowed  them  thus  to  surprise  this 
melancholy,  hermit  bird,  who  is  as  keen-sighted  as  he  is  solitary. 
The  lonely  fisherman,  vexed  at  being  thus  disturbed  in  his  pri 
vacy,  rose  into  the  air,  uttering  a  few  morose  and  inharmonious 
screams,  and  with  outstretched  bill  and  neck,  and  long  legs 
dan<rlino;  behind  him,  sailed  off  before  the  wind. 


166  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  heron  was  of  the  largest  size,  standing  nearly  five  feet  in 
height,  measuring  more  than  six  from  wing  to  wing,  and  being 
at  least  double  the  weight  of  either  of  the  hawks. 

Quickly  did  Morton  jerk  the  hood  from  off  the  haggard  fal 
con's  neck,  and  toss  her  down  the  wind,  after  the  stately  quarry. 

"  Bind  me  yon  moody,  long-legged  misanthrope,"  cried  he, 
as  he  whistled  off  his  hawk,  "  kill  me  him  handsomely,  and  like 
a  gallant  falcon  as  thou  art,  and  thou  shalt  win  a  crown  of  glory 
both  for  thy  master  and  thyself." 

"  'T  is  no  child's  play,  either,"  cried  Sir  Christopher,  as  they 
all  eagerly  followed  the  heron's  flight,  "  for  the  fellow  will  stand 
at  bay  if  he  is  caught,  and  thrust  with  that  long  bill  of  his 
like  a  gladiator,  so  that  the  falcon  will  need  all  her  mettle  and 
the  whole  weight  and  strength  of  her  pounces." 

"  Never  fear  the  peregrine,"  cried  Morton  gaily,  though 
somewhat  out  of  breath ;  "  my  life  on  her  courage  and  her 
success  ! " 

The  heron  had  risen  high  in  the  air,  and  then  flown  off  before 
the  wind,  with  a  powerful  and  rather  rapid  stroke.  The  falcon 
gained  upon  him  very  fast,  but  seemed  somewhat  wary  in  approach 
ing  him.  Although  not  courting  a  combat,  but  on  the  contrary 
evidently  desirous  of  escaping  his  enemy  by  ignoble  flight,  yet 
there  seemed  something  dangerous  in  the  melancholy  bird, 
which  made  the  high  mettled  falcon  cautious  in  her  attack.  As 
she  neared  the  quarry,  however,  which  she  did  within  a  very 
few  minutes  after  she  had  been  first  launched  in  his  pursuit,  she 
seemed  to  be  thrusting  forth  her  mighty  talons  to  grapple  with  her 
prey.  Then,  as  if  altering  her  intention,  she  suddenly  rose 
spirally  far  above  the  heron,  till  she  was  almost  entirely  lost  from 
view. 

During  all  this  time,  Morton,  who  had  advanced  far  beyond 
his  companions,  stood  gazing  eagerly  and  almost  breathlessly 
upward. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  167 


In  a  moment,  while  the  heron,  somewhat  perplexed,  was 
steadily  beating  the  air  in  the  same  direction  which  she  had  at 
first  taken,  the  hawk  suddenly  appeared,  falling  as  it  were  out 
of  the  heavens,  from  some  invisible  height,  and  swooping  down 
upon  her  prey.  When  within  a  few  yards  of  the  quarry,  how 
ever,  she  suddenly  turned  upon  her  wing,  recovered  herself,  and 
slowly  mounted  again. 

"How  magnificently  she  cancelliers,"  cried  Morton,  still 
gazing  intently  upwards,  and  wholly  rapt  in  the  issue  of  the 
sport. 

There  was  no  answer,  but  Morton  would  have  heard  none, 
had  it  been  made. 

The  heron  meanwhile,  somewhat  puzzled  by  the  manoeuvres  of 
his  adversary,  doubled  upon  his  course,  and  now  flew  in  rather 
a  circling  and  hesitating  manner. 

Again  the  rushing  sound  struck  the  ear,  and  the  falcon 
stooping  again  from  a  prodigious  height,  fell  like  a  thunderbolt 
upon  her  prey.  This  time  there  was  no  cancelliering,  but  de 
scending  in  a  concentrated  mass,  she  struck  the  quarry  full  in 
the  back  with  her  ferocious  talons.  The  heron,  desperately 
wounded,  and  struggling  vainly  to  elude  her  clutches,  at  last 
flew  slowly  olf,  bearing  his  audacious  enemy  upon  his  shoulders. 
The  falcon,  meanwhile,  strove  to  break  the  neck  of  her  foe  by 
repeated  and  powerful  strokes  of  her  beak,  and  made  no  effort  to 
alter  the  direction  of  their  flight.  These  ferocious  blows  were 
for  a  few  seconds  skilfully  parried  by  the  heron,  who  twisted 
hither  and  thither  his  loner  flexible  neck,  and  dexterously  foiled 
the  murderous  attack.  Finding  it  difficult,  however,  to  continue 
this  game  much  longer,  no  longer  hoping  for  safety  in  flight, 
and  suddenly  inflaming  himself  with  the  courage  of  despair,  the 
heron,  by  an  unexpected  and  dexterous  movement,  extricated 
himself  for  a  moment  from  his  enemy's  pounces,  threw  himself 
backwards,  and  furiously  attacked  his  enemy  with  his  long, 


168  MERRY-MOUNT. 


sharp,  powerful  bill.  Now  had  the  falcon  need  of  all  her 
strength  and  spirit.  The  enemy,  colossal  in  comparison  with 
herself,  was  animated  by  fury  and  despair.  Desperate  and 
incessant  were  the  lounges  dealt  her  by  the  heron,  who  handled 
his  long  bill  like  a  rapier.  Gallantly  did  the  falcon  parry  the 
furious  thrusts,  and  return  blow  for  blow.  The  champions 
were  not  unfairly  matched,  the  falcon  making  up  for  her  infe 
rior  length  and  weight  by  superior  concentration  of  muscle  and 
greater  strength  of  wing. 

Eagerly  did  Morton,  totally  lost  to  every  thing  in  the  world  be 
low,  gaze  upwards  at  the  combatants,  who  now  hung  suspended 
in  air  a  few  hundred  yards  above  his  head.  The  aerial  duel  was 
desperate,  but  short.  The  falcon,  full  of  wrath  at  being  thus  for 
the  first  time  baffled,  rose  again  for  an  instant  into  the  air.  She 
then  descended  with  all  the  force  and  fury  of  her  nature  upon 
the  quarry,  recklessly  received  a  desperate  thrust,  which  pierced 
her  through  and  through,  and  at  the  same  instant  smote  her  ad 
versary  to  death  with  a  furious  blow  which  she  was  thus  enabled 
to  inflict  upon  his  spine.  At  the  next  instant,  both  hawk  and 
heron  fell  headlong  to  the  ground,  and  lay  locked  in  a  deadly 
embrace  at  Morton's  feet.  Morton  stooped  eagerly  down,  extri 
cated  his  favorite  from  the  deadly  weapon  of  her  antagonist, 
which  still  transfixed  her,  tore  her  talons  from  his  palpitating 
body,  and  placed  her  in  his  bosom.  The  fearless  falcon  turned 
her  glazing  eye  upon  her  master,  with  an  expression  full  of 
spirit  and  affection,  shook  her  pinions  gallantly  for  a  moment, 
and  then  was  still  forever. 

"  Thy  last  flight  is  flown,  my  matchless  haggard,"  said  Mor 
ton,  with  a  tear  in  his  eye,  gazing  with  unaffected  sorrow  upon 
the  body  of  the  falcon,  and  then  laying  her  down  side  by  side 
with  her  powerful  enemy,  who  lay  stone  dead  at  his  feet. 

"  Ye  shall  be  buried  together  in  one  grave,"  said  he  at  last, 
after  contemplating  the  pair  long  and  mournfully.  "  My  poor 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


hawk,  who  came  to  my  whistle  day  and  night !  Sawest  thou 
ever  a  falcon  in  all  the  world,  who  stooped  more  gallantly,  Mas 
ter  Jaspar?"  concluded  he,  turning  suddenly  round. 

"  Shame  upon  thy  lewd  and  cruel  practices  !  "  cried  a  voice 
at  his  side,  which  sounded  very  unlike  that  of  Gardiner  or  of 
Jaspar.  "  How  often,  O,  thou  Master  of  Misrule,  wilt  thou 
provoke  us  in  the  wilderness,  and  grieve  us  in  the  desert?  " 

"And  who  the  devil  art  thou,"  cried  Morton  in  astonish 
ment,  "  who  art  thus  prophesying  upon  the  salt  marshes?  " 

Morton  might  well  have  been  surprised,  for  as  he  looked  about 
him,  there  was  not  a  trace  to  be  seen  of  Sir  Christopher  arid 
the  gentle  Jaspar,  and  in  their  places  he  found  himself  sur 
rounded  by  a  party  of  grim-visaged  Puritans,  armed  to  the  teeth, 
who  evidently  intended  to  devote  themselves  that  morning  ex 
clusively  to  himself.  So  absorbed  had  he  been  in  observing  the 
struggle  between  his  falcon  and  the  heron,  that  the  party  had 
advanced  upon  him  and  made  him  their  prisoner,  before  he  was 
in  the  least  aware  of  their  approach. 

Sir  Christopher  Gardiner,  however,  whose  eagle  eye,  keener 
than  that  of  hawk  or  heron,  had  observed  the  party  at  a  long 
distance,  as,  after  having  apparently  made  an  unsuccessful 
search  at  Merry-Mount,  they  descended  upon  the  marshes,  had 
eluded  their  observation,  and,  accompanied  by  his  cousin,  had 
glided  unperceived  away,  at  a  time  when  Morton,  in  his  eager 
ness,  had  advanced  to  so  great  a  distance  that  it  wras  wholly  out 
of  the  knight's  power  to  give  him  warning.  As  Sir  Christopher 
had  repeatedly,  but  fruitlessly,  reminded  his  reckless  companion 
of  his  danger,  and  as  he  had  no  desire  unnecessarily  to  expose 
his  character  to  suspicion,  by  allowing  himself  to  be  found  in 
the  company  of  one  whom  the  Puritans  considered  so  disreputa 
ble  and  odious,  he  had  felt  no  hesitation  in  thus  disappearing  as 
rapidly  as  possible. 

VOL.   II.  15 


170  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Morton,  being  used  to  such  scenes,  saw  at  once  that  all  re 
sistance  would  be  useless.  Moreover,  after  the  first  surprise  was 
over,  and  he  had  found  himself  captured  beyond  all  peradven- 
ture,  his  thoughts  reverted  to  his  dead  falcon.  That  he  was 
arrested  did  not  surprise  him,  and  he  had  long  since  exhausted 
his  indignation  at  the  tyrannical  persecution  which  the  Puritans 
seemed  determined  to  inflict  upon  him.  He  should  soon  extri 
cate  himself,  he  thought,  from  this  new  dilemma,  but  who  could 
restore  to  life  his  gallant  hawk,  whom  he  had  been  training  so 
long,  and  who  was  as  dear  to  him  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  Look 
ing  with  profound  contempt  at  the  rigid  countenances  of  his 
captors,  he  again  raised  the  dead  body  of  his  favorite  from  the 
ground,  and  placed  it  in  his  bosom.  Absorbed  in  his  melanchely 
reflections,  he  stood  there  fondling  the  creature,  whispering  and 
whistling  to  her,  as  if  his  endearments  could  recall  her  to  life, 
and  hearing  not  a  single  word  of  the  long  exhortation  with 
which  the  leader  of  the  party  was  indulging  him. 

Finding  his  eloquence  so  utterly  lost  upon  the  hardened 
sinner,  Captain  Underwood  broke  off  in  his  address,  saying  only 
in  conclusion,  — 

"  Thou  wilt  follow  me  now,  and  that  obediently,  O,  thou 
Master  of  Misrule,  else  shall  it  go  hard  with  thee  !  " 

"  And  whither,  most  peremptory  of  Puritans?  "  said  Morton 
carelessly,  still  caressing  his  hawk. 

"  Even  to  Charlestown,  even  unto  the  magistrates  who  have 
ordered  thy  instantaneous  arrest,  now  effected  by  their  unworthy 
servants." 

"  And  what  have  I  to  do  with  the  magistrates  of  Charlestown, 
or  they  with  me?"  replied  Morton;  "truly,!  have  as  little  relish 
for  their  company  as  they  for  mine." 

"  Verily,"  answered  Captain  Underwood,  "  Governor  Win- 
throp,  the  deputy,  and  all  the  assistants,  hold  a  solemn  court 
to-morrow,  to  which  thou  art  formally  cited,  then  and  there  to 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


answer  for  thy  various  misdemeanors.  Verily,  the  magistrates 
do  intend  to  erect  their  authority  throughout  the  land.  They 
shall  smite  their  enemies  in  the  hinder  part,  and  put  them  to 
perpetual  reproach." 

So  saying,  the  captain  of  the  party  led  the  way,  and  his 
soldiers,  taking  Morton  in  their  midst,  started  on  their  march 
to  Charlestown. 


172  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    SUZERAIN    OF    MERRY-MOUNT    DEPOSED. 

UPON  the  day  succeeding  his  capture  upon  the  marsh, 
Thomas  Morton,  in  custody  of  two  or  three  tall  fellows  in  buff 
jerkins  and  steel  head-pieces,  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  large 
room  in  the  Great-house  at  Charlestown.  This  building,  which 
had  been  constructed  with  especial  care,  by  Mr.  Graves,  during 
the  previous  year,  expressly  to  serve  as  a  government  house,  was 
a  timber-work  mansion  of  very  respectable  dimensions,  and 
stood  upon  the  open  plain  below  the  Mishawum  hills.  In  its 
neighborhood  were  huddled  together  a  miscellaneous  collection 
of  booths,  tents,  and  wigwams,  in  which  the  emigrants  had 
established  their  temporary  residence,  and  in  which  they  were 
suffering  dreadful  ravages  from  the  sickness  which  still  prevailed 
with  unabated  fury.  As  nearly  the  whole  population  were  upon 
the  point  of  removing  to  the  south  side  of  the  Charles  River, 
where,  at  least,  they  could  promise  themselves  a  supply  of 
wholesome  water,  which  was  denied  to  them  at  Mishawum,  the 
infant  village  of  Charlestown  presented  rather  the  appearance  of 
a  temporary  encampment,  than  of  an  organized  town.  Still, 
however,  the  forms  of  government  were  rigidly  observed,  and 
the  governor,  with  most  of  the  magistrates,  who  resided  in  the 
Great-house,  although  active  and  benevolent  in  relieving  the 
sufferings  of  the  people,  still  maintained,  throughout  all  the 
difficulties  which  beset  them,  an  elevated  and  decorous  deport 
ment,  which  invested  their  responsible  offices  with  a  certain 
patriarchal  air  of  authority,  and  which  inspired  the  people  with 
additional  feelings  of  confidence  and  respect. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  173 


The  potentate  of  Merry-Mount,  with  the  good-humored 
expression  which  habitually  characterized  his  face,  was  looking 
carelessly  round  him,  whistling  and  talking  to  himself,  besides 
making,  occasionally,  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  draw  some  one 
of  his  attendants  into  conversation.  The  magistrates  had  not 
yet  made  their  appearance  in  the  apartment,  although  they  were 
soon  expected,  as  the  third  Court  of  Assistants,  which  had  been 
held  in  Massachusetts  since  the  arrival  of  Winthrop  with  the 
charter,  was  to  be  held  that  morning.  Besides  the  armed 
attendants  upon  the  magistrates,  who  answered  Morton's  flip 
pant  remarks  with  forbidding  silence,  there  were  clustered 
together,  in  the  different  corners  of  the  room,  a  few  stragglers, 
who  appeared  to  be  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  court,  and  who, 
in  the  mean  time,  were  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with  one 
another.  These  persons  all  wore  tall,  steeple-crowned  hats,  and 
sad-colored  garments. 

"  The  seat  of  government  is  to  be  fixed  at  Trimountain, 
yonder,"  said  a  leathern-visaged,  sinewy-looking  individual, 
addressing  a  companion  who  stood  near  him  ;  "  at  least,  I  under 
stand  that  the  governor,  as  well  as  the  worshipful  Master  John 
son,  have  already  decided  upon  removing  thither  immediately." 

"  Aye,  Goodman  Faunce,"  replied  the  individual  addressed, 
"who  rejoiced  in  the  appellation  of  Jonathan  Jellett,  "  and  I 
have  likewise  decided  to  take  my  staff  in  hand  and  accompany 
their  worships.  The  mortality  which  prevails  upon  this  pro 
montory  is  appalling.  Verily  it  trieth  the  heart  and  the  reins." 

"  Truly,  the  pestilence  shooteth  its  arrows  among  us  un 
sparingly,"  answered  Faunce,  "  but  it  is  in  vain  ;  the  Lord  is 
the  rock  of  our  refuge." 

"'T  is  said,"  said  a  third  person,   who  had   not  yet  spoken, 
"  that  the  company  have  determined  to  re-baptize  yonder  penin 
sula  of  Trimountain,  which  the  heathens  call  Shawmut,  seeing 
that  it  is  likely  to  become  a  goodly  town,  and  a  large." 
15* 


174  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  And  by  what  name  do  they  propose  to  baptize  the  promon 
tory,  Goodman  Pid?"  asked  Faunce. 

"  'T  is  to  be  baptized  Boston,"  answered  Pid. 

"In  honor  and  commemoration,  doubtless,"  said  Jellett,  "  of 
the  Lincolnshire  folk,  and  of  the  pious  and  learned  John  Cotton, 
who  hath  long  time  ministered  in  that  ancient  town,  and  who 
is  shortly  expected  hither  to  prophesy  unto  us  even  at  New 
Boston." 

"  Aye,"  continued  Pid,  "  and  doubtless  New  Boston  will  be 
the  centre  and  the  metropolis  of  the  Massachusetts.  The  site 
is  a  goodly  one,  and  the  harbor  commodious  and  safe." 

"  I  am  of  your  mind,"  said  Jellett.  It  hath,  moreover,  become 
less  necessary  that  one  great  fortified  town  should  be  built, 
according  to  the  company's  first  intention.  The  discomfiture  of 
the  great  Indian  conspiracy,  which  hath  so  recently  occurred, 
and  the  peaceable  deportment  of  the  heathen  at  present,  renders 
an  impregnable  fort  of  less  consequence." 

"  Aye,  Goodman  Jellett,"  answered  Faunce,  "  the  Sagamore 
John,  who  revealed  that  great  conspiracy  a  few  months  since, 
hath  merited  richly  of  the  Lord.  But  know  ye,  my  brethren, 
who  it  is,  who  is  said  to  have  been  the  chief  instigator  of  this 
foul  conspiracy  to  cut  off  by  savage  hands  the  whole  English 
population  of  New  England  ?" 

"  Is  it  the  Sachem  Chickatabot  ?  "  demanded  all  the  others, 
somewhat  impressed  by  the  speaker's  air  of  mystery. 

"Not  at  all,"  was  the  reply,  "  the  heathen  chieftain  is  well 
affected  towards  us.  'T  is  an  Englishman,  a  vile  and  unworthy 
renegade,  a  papist,  and  a  secret  emissary  of  Sir  Ferdinando 
Gorges,  the  arch-enemy  of  our  company.  Such  an  one  it  is 
who  hath  fostered  and  guided  the  savage  plot  against  us,  thus 
revealed  by  the  friendship  of  the  gentle  Sagamore." 

"  And  who  is  this  Englishman?"  demanded  all  the  speakers, 
with  frowning  faces  and  eager  voices." 


MERRY-MOUNT.  175 


"  I  confess,"  answered  Faunce,  "  that  I  do  not  know  to 
absolute  certainty  his  name  nor  whereabouts.  Still  I  am 
informed  that  the  company's  officers  have  yesterday  arrested 
for  various  mal-practices  a  certain  rantipole  disturber  of  our 
Canaan's  peace.  This  man  is  called  Thomas  Morton,  and  I 
say  unto  you,  that,  beyond  all  peradventure,  if  any  Englishman 
hath  indeed  thus  foully  conspired  with  the  heathen  against 
the  lives  and  happiness  of  the  Christian  settlers,  Thomas  Morton 
is  the  man." 

"And  I  say  unto  thee  that  thou  liest !  "  cried  the  Lord  of 
Merry-Mount,  who  had  been  intently  listening  to  this  conversa 
tion,  "  and  were  it  not  for  these  importunate  friends  who  hold 
me  so  tightly,  by  Jupiter  Tonans,  I  would  make  thee  swallow 
the  falsehood  again,  with  a  few  inches  of  cold  steel  to  digest  it 
withal !  " 

The  leathern  visage  of  Goodman  Faunce  expanded  like  a  pair 
of  bellows,  and  he  uttered  an  explosive  ejaculation  of  amaze 
ment  at  this  interruption.  None  of  the  party  had  observed  the 
presence  of  Morton,  so  intent  had  they  been  upon  their  own 
conversation,  nor  was  any  one  of  them  acquainted  with  his 
person.  As  his  whole  appearance,  however,  indicated  a  charac 
ter  of  an  entirely  different  stamp  from  their  own,  they  now 
looked  upon  him  with  great  curiosity,  as  he  stood  boiling  over 
with  indignation  at  the  foul  calumny  which  he  had  just  heard 
concerning  himself. 

"I  say  thou  liest!"  roared  Morton,  continuing  to  vent  his 
indignation  in  words  of  ludicrous  vehemence,  while  his  guards 
held  him  tightly  in  their  arms,  and  vainly  endeavored  to  stop  his 
tongue  —  "I  say  thou  art  a  slanderer!  thou  sour-faced,  steeple- 
stoppered  vinegar-cruet!  What!  is  an  Englishman's  good  name 
and  fame  thus  lightly  to  be  dealt  with  by  such  cold-blooded, 

canting " 

"  Silence,  thou  indecent  and  lewd  babbler  !  "   cried  the  men- 


176  MERRY-MOUNT. 


at-arms,  holding  him  tightly,  and  at  last  succeeding  in  stopping 
his  mouth,  just  as  the  door  opened  —  "  seest  thou  not  that  their, 
worships  are  about  to  enter  ?  " 

As  these  words  were  spoken,  the  magistrates,  preceded  by  two 
sergeants  with  halberts,  entered  the  room,  with  grave  visages 
and  stately  step,  while  all  the  company  present  pulled  off  their 
hats  and  made  a  respectful  obeisance. 

Governor  Winthrop  came  first,  a  tall,  erect  figure  in  the  prime 
of  manhood,  whose  plaited  vandyke  ruff,  dark-flowing  robes,  and 
magisterial  chain,  harmonized  entirely  with  the  simple  and  natu 
ral  dignity  which  distinguished  his  presence.  As  he  placed 
himself  upon  a  slightly  elevated  seat,  behind  a  large  table  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  room,  while  Dudley  and  Johnson  occupied  the 
seats  upon  either  side,  and  the  rest  of  the  assistants  arranged 
themselves  around  the  table,  even  Morton  himself  could  not 
look  upon  him  without  respect.  The  governor's  features  were 
prominent  but  regular.  The  hair  and  beard  were  dark,  the  com 
plexion  olive,  the  hazel  eye  large  and  pensive,  the  forehead  full 
of  gravity  and  deliberation.  The  whole  countenance  expressed 
elevation  of  sentiment,  earnestness  and  decision,  tempered  with 
great  gentleness,  and  somewhat  overshadowed  with  melancholy. 
All  these  characteristics  dwelt  particularly  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  face.  The  eyebrows,  which  were  delicately  pencilled  and 
remarkably  arched,  imparted  a  singular  character  to  the  whole 
physiognomy;  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  expression  of  the  brow 
and  eye  would  have  struck  an  imaginative  person  as  that  of  a 
man,  whose  thoughts  were  habitually  and  steadfastly  directed  to 
things  beyond  this  world. 

Well  contrasted  with  Winthrop  was  the  erect,  military  figure, 
and  stern,  rugged  features  of  the  deputy  Dudley.  The  low- 
country  soldier,  the  bigoted  and  intolerant  Calvinist,  the  iron- 
handed  and  close-fisted  financier,  the  severe  magistrate,  but  the 
unflinching  and  heroic  champion  of  a  holy  cause,  were  all  repre- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  177 


sented  in  that  massive  and  grizzled  head,  that  furrowed  coun 
tenance,  that  attitude  of  stern  command. 

Was  it  grief  for  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  whose  grave  was  still 
green,  the  gentle  Lady  Arabella,  who  had  left  an  earl's  palace  to 
lie,  after  a  few  short  months,  in  the  same  wilderness  grave  with 
her  husband;  was  it  grief  alone  for  that  flower  so  early  withered 
on  this  inhospitable  shore,  which  darkened  the  melancholy  coun 
tenance,  and  bent  the  slender  form,  of  the  youthful  magistrate 
who  sat  at  Winthrop's  left  hand  ?  Or  was  a  dim  consciousness 
of  his  own  impending  fate  mingled  with  his  grief  for  the  de 
parted  ?  Did  Azrael's  wing,  hurtling  so  near  him,  already  over 
shadow  his  soul?  Gazing  with  an  air  of  abstraction,  Isaac 
Johnson  sat  at  the  board  with  his  brother  magistrates,  but  his 
thoughts  seemed  to  be  far  away.  His  pale  face  and  retiring 
fio-ure  mincrled  with  the  sterner  and  ruder  heads  of  Sir  Richard . 

O  O 

Saltonstall  and  the  other  assistants,  and  presented  a  pathetic 
contrast  to  them  all. 

After  the  teaching  elder  of  the  new  church,  which  had  so 
recently  been  gathered  upon  that  spot,  the  Rev.  John  Wilson, 
had  offered  up  a  fervent  exhortation,  the  record  book  of  the 
company  was  opened,  and  the  governor  read  a  brief  report  of 
the  proceedings  of  the  court  which  had  been  held  during  the 
previous  week. 

"The  next  Court  of  Assistants  will  probably  be  holden,  my 
brethren,"  said  he,  addressing  his  associates,  "  upon  the  same 
spot  wherein  we  are  now  assembled.  All  subsequent  ones  will 
take  place  in  the  town  hall,  which  is  now  well  nigh  completed, 
upon  the  opposite  peninsula  of  Trimountain.  It  is  desirable 
that,  as  soon  as  may  be,  a  general  court  of  all  the  freemen  of 
the  company  should  be  holden,  but  I  would  suggest  that  it  be 
deferred  until  the  people  have  established  themselves  at  Tri 
mountain." 

The  suggestion  was  received  with  approbation. 


178  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Touching  the  names  which  are  to  be  respectively  borne," 
continued  the  governor,  "by  the  various  plantations  now,  with 
the  Lord's  help,  commenced,  it  was  reserved  to  the  present 
court  to  act  thereupon.  Mr.  Deputy  hath  some  proposition  to 
make  upon  this  head,  as  I  have  been  given  to  understand." 

Dudley  arose,  and  read  an  order  as  follows :  "  Ordered,  that 
the  plantation  at  Mattapan  be  henceforth  known  by  the  name 
of  Dorchester ;  that  the  town  farthest  up  the  Charles  River,  be 
called  Waterton ;  and  that  the  plantation  at  Trimountain,  be 
called  Boston." 

The  order  was  unanimously  accepted  by  the  court. 

After  a  few  other  legislative  matters  had  been  disposed  of, 
Deputy  Dudley  arose  and  proposed  that  the  persons  convicted 
at  the  last  court,  should  be  brought  in  to  receive  their  sentence. 
No  objection  being  made,  the  sergeant  proceeded  to  call  for 
David  Phippen. 

David  Phippen,  a  lean-favored,  unshaven,  and  marvellously 
unprepossessing  individual,  was  then  brought  forward  to  their 
worships'  table,  and  was  thus  addressed  by  the  governor  :  — 

"  David  Phippen,  thou  having  been  found  guilty  of  gross  and 
repeated  drunkenness,  art  hereby  sentenced,  to  the  end  that  thou 
mayest  soon  amend  thy  life,  and  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  to 
receive  forty  lashes  at  the  whipping-post,  and  to  wear  a  red  D 
around  thy  neck  for  the  space  of  thirty  days  —  the  time  and 
place  of  punishment  to  be  appointed  by  the  court.  Take  him 
away,  sergeant." 

"  But  your  worships,  "  stammered  the  culprit,  evidently 

desirous  of  making  some  observations  upon  the  subject. 

"  Silence,  drunkard !  "  thundered  the  grim  deputy,  looking  at 
the  trembling  Phippen  with  an  indignant  countenance.  "  Take 
him  away,  sergeant,  and  obey  the  governor.  Call  Robert  Dib 
ble  !  " 


MERRY-MOUNT.  179 


Robert  Dibble,  a  hirsute,  somewhat  uncleanly  but  good- 
humored  and  honest  looking  personage,  being  brought  forward, 

"Goodman  Dibble,"  said  the  governor,  thou  having  been  con 
victed,  upon  thy  own  confession,  of  having  killed  a  partridge 
upon  the  Sabbath,  contrary  to  the  express  injunctions  of  Moses, 
art  hereby  sentenced  by  the  court  to  receive  forty  stripes  save 
one,  at  the  whipping-post." 

"  But  your  worships,"  interposed  the  criminal,  "  my  good 
woman  was  sore  afllicted  with  the  prevailing  sickness,  and  I 
thought  a  bit  of  wild  fowl " 

"  Take  him  away,  sergeant ! "  said  the  deputy,  who  seemed 
to  take  a  grim  satisfaction  in  dispatching  as  much  of  this  work 
as  possible,  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  gentler  governor  read  the 
sentences  of  the  court,  which  he  was  obliged  to  deliver,  with 
manifest  repugnance;  "call  Master  Zaccheus  Smeedley." 

"Master  Zaccheus  Smeedley,"  said  the  governor,  as  the  next 
culprit  was  brought  before  the  board,  "  thou  having  been  convicted 
of  the  heinous  sin  of  stealing  from  the  Indians,  and  having  con 
fessed  the  same,  art  hereby  sentenced  by  the  court  to  forfeit 
thy  title,  and  to  be  henceforth  called  plain  Zaccheus  Smeedley.'' 

"Take  him  away,"  said  the  deputy,  "and  call  Humphrey 
Rednape." 

Morton,  who  had  been  listlessly  observing  the  course  of  crim 
inal  jurisprudence  adopted  by  the  colony,  and  awaiting  with 
some  curiosity  the  decision  of  their  worships  upon  his  own  case, 
now  pricked  up  his  ears,  as  he  heard  the  name  of  the  last  culprit 
announced. 

Humphrey  Rednape,  who  had  long  ago  left  the  domain  of 
Merry-Mount,  having  deserted  his  sovereign  soon  after  his  first 
deposition  by  the  military  power  of  Standish,  and  having  after 
wards  led  a  vagabond  life  in  different  parts  of  the  country 
till  his  late  arrest,  now  presented  himself  before  the  magistrates. 
The  worthy  unicorn  retained  a  lingering  relic  of  his  swash 


180  MERRY-MOUNT. 


buckler    air,   but  he    was  evidently    in    a  state  of  decay,    and 
presented  a  bedraggled  and  chopfallen  appearance. 

"  Quantum  mutatus  ab  illo  Hectare!"  muttered  his  former 
suzerain,  as  he  looked  attentively  at  the  criminal. 

"Humphrey  Rednape,"  said  the  governor,  in  a  solemn  voice, 
"  thou  hast  been  accused  of  divers  and  sundry  offences,  whereof 
habitual  drunkenness  is  among  the  least.  Especially  thou  hast 
been  convicted  of  the  high  and  unpardonable  crime  of  censuring 
and  blaspheming  our  church,  and  of  reviling  the  magistrates,  for 
the  which  offence  the  court  adjudges  thee  to  be  branded  upon 
the  forehead,  to  receive  fifty  lashes  at  the  whipping-post,  and 
after  execution  of  said  sentence,  to  depart  without  the  limits  of 
the  patent,  not  to  return  again,  upon  pain  of  perpetual  imprison 
ment." 

"  Numps,  Numps,  poor  devil ! "  muttered  Morton,  compas 
sionating  the  unlucky  predicament  of  his  former  vassal ;  "  could 
not  thy  lesson,  learned  at  the  Plymouth  whipping-post,  make 
thee  wiser?  'Cynthius  non  aurem  vell.it  et  admonuit.'  Could 
not  Apollo  twitch  thee  by  the  ear  ?  But  I  forgot,  perhaps  he 
pulled  the  wrong  one,  which  hangs  upon  Plymouth  pillory, 
and, " 

"  Silence  !  "  roared  Dudley,  looking  towards  Morton,  who  was 
thus  soliloquizing,  in  an  almost  audible  tone;  "silence!  and 
hear  the  governor.  Thy  time  will  come  soon  enough,  lewd 
babbler!" 

A  loud  noise  and  scuffling,  at  the  door-way,  just  at  that  mo 
ment,  attracted  the  attention  of  the  court,  and  a  sergeant  was 
ordered  forth  to  inquire  into  the  disturbance.  Just  at  that  mo 
ment,  however,  the  door  was  flung  violently  open,  and  a  man  of 
gigantic  dimensions,  twirling  a  sledge-hammer  in  one  hand,  and 
holding  the  grinning  head  of  a  wolf,  from  which  the  blood  was 
still  dripping,  in  the  other,  strode  into  the  apartment. 

"  Ye  have  fined  me  two  pounds,"  cried  the  new  comer,  fling- 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


ing  the  ghastly  trophy  upon  the  council-table,  "  and  ye  may  even 
take  your  payment  out  of  yon  brute's  pretty  face,  or  ye  get 
nothing  from  Thomas  Walford." 

The  magistrates  looked  with  some  surprise  at  this  unceremo 
nious  proceeding  upon  the  part  of  the  reader's  old  acquaintance, 
the  Mishawum  blacksmith,  while  he  in  the  mean  while  contin 
ued,  with  much  ferocity, — 

"  Ye  have  placed  a  bounty  upon  the  scalps  of  wolves,  or  else 
perhaps  ye  would  have  taken  payment  out  of  my  hide,  as  I  see 
ye  do  daily  with  the  miserable  creatures  who  submit  to  your 
saintly  authority.  Before  long,  perhaps,  ye  will  set  a  bounty 
upon  the  scalps  of  Episcopalians,  or  of  blacksmiths.  Ye  have 
hunted  me  like  a  wolf,  and  perhaps  ye  mean  that  I  shall  die  like 
one.  I  have  committed  no  sin,  and  yet  ye  deal  with  me  as  if  I 
were  a  felon,  because  I  am  not  of  your  communion,  or  your 
company." 

"  Peace,  brawler  !  "  roared  Dudley,  venting  his  indignation  at 
last. 

"Peace!  peace!  where  shall  I  find  peace?"  cried  the  black 
smith,  glaring  at  the  deputy,  with  an  evident  inclination  to 
demolish  his  skull  with  his  sledge-hammer  —  while  the  granite- 
faced  magistrate  met  his  furious  gaze  with  an  expression  as  stern 
and  unflinching  as  his  own.  "  I  was  peaceful  enough  by  my 
solitary  forge,  till  ye  intruded  upon  my  settlement,  and  destroyed 
my  peace.  Of  what  crime  am  I  accused?"  continued  he,  sud 
denly  turning  to  the  court? 

"  Thou  art  accused  and  convicted,"  said  Winthrop,  gravely, 
"  of  confronting  and  maltreating  the  company's  officers,  thereby 
bringing  the  authority  of  the  magistrates  into  contempt.  The 
company  regret  to  have  brought  matters  to  such  a  pass  with 
thee,  and  would  have  been  well  pleased  hadst  thou  been 
contented  to  abide  peaceably  and  lovingly  within  their  patent, 

VOL.   II.  16 


182  MERRY-MOUNT. 


with  acknowledgment  of  their  jurisdiction.  The  company  do 
not  desire  to  deal  harshly  with  thee,  but  thou  claimest  to  hold 
thy  land  under  an  adverse  title  to  our  own.  Furthermore,  thou 
art  the  agent  of  John  Oldham,  a  stubborn  and  litigious  man, 
who  hath  not  ceased  to  create  trouble  for  the  company.  Still 
the  magistrates  are  disposed  to  be  gentle  with  thee,  and  for  my 
own  part  I  declare  sincerely  that  I  would  willingly  be  thy  friend, 
if  thou  couldest  be  disposed  to  dwell  peaceably  within  the 
patent." 

The  governor's  soft  answer  seemed  to  mitigate  the  black 
smith's  wrath.  At  any  rate,  he  did  not  seem  disposed  to  argue 
the  land  title,  at  that  moment,  with  their  worships,  and  accord 
ingly  having  made  a  respectful  obeisance  to  Winthrop,  and 
exchanged  a  ferocious  look  with  the  deputy,  he  turned  towards 
the  door,  satisfied,  for  the  moment,  with  the  easy  manner  in 
which  he  had  paid  his  fine. 

As  he  was  about  departing,  his  eye  fell  upon  Morton,  who 
was  standing  near  the  door-way,  and  who  was  at  that  moment 
recognised  by  Humphrey  Rednape,  as  the  sergeant  was  leading 
him  away. 

"  Beshrew  my  heart,"  said  the  blacksmith,  good-naturedly, 
4'  how  earnest  thou  in  this  plight,  my  worthy  gossip  1 " 

"  How  indeed  !"  said  Morton,  "demand  rather,  how  can  a 
living  man  keep  out  of  a  scrape,  now  that  the  kingdom  of  the 
saints  be  fairly  established.  Here  be  three  of  us  now,  who  are 
no  better  esteemed  than  the  wicked,  Numps  Rednape,  thou,  my 
indomitable  Vulcan,  and  myself,  who,  sooth  to  say, " 

"  Silence  !  "  roared  the  deputy,  thoroughly  enraged  at  the 
flippant  conduct  of  Morton  and  the  insolence  of  the  black 
smith.  "  Remove  the  criminal,  sergeant,  and  call  Thomas 
Morton." 

There  was  a  considerable  sensation  among  the  spectators,  as 


MERRY-MOUNT.  J83 


the  name  of  this  last  culprit  was  announced,  for  the  fame  of  the 
uproarious  monarch  of  Merry-Mount  had  spread  far  and  wide 
throughout  the  bay.  The  magistrates  looked  with  a  severe 
expression  upon  him,  as  he  advanced  with  his  usual  air  of 
careless  confidence,  and  the  straggling  groups,  who  were 
stationed  in  different  parts  of  the  chamber,  clustered  together 
to  look  with  curiosity  at  the  prisoner. 

"  Thomas  Morton,"  said  the  governor,  gravely,  as  the  crim 
inal  stood  unabashed  before  the  magistrates,  "  thou  hast  been 
convicted  of  high  arid  unpardonable  crimes." 

"  Convicted,  am  I  ?"  interrupted  Morton,  "  convicted  before 
trial.  By  Jupiter  Tonans,  that  may  be  the  law  as  laid  down  in 
Deuteronomy,  but  it  would  not  sound  so  well  at  Clifford's  Inn. 
Your  charter,  most  worshipful  governor,  requires  you  to 
administer  justice  according  to  the  laws  of  England." 

"  Peace,  and  listen  to  the  governor ! "  cried  Dudley,  in  a 
voice  of  thunder. 

"  So  I  intend  to  do,  may  it  please  the  worshipful  magistrates," 
continued  the  imperturbable  Morton,  "  but  the  governor  must 
even  borrow  the  archangel's  trumpet  to  outbray  the  voice  of 
this  respectable  person,  whom  I  take  to  be  the  crier  of  the 
court,  and  who,  with  submission,  seems  to  me  unnecessarily 
vociferous  in  proclaiming  silence." 

Thus  coolly  rebuking  the  grim  deputy,  Morton  turned 
demurely  to  the  governor,  who  said  in  reply  to  his  first  obser 
vation,  — 

"  We  do  not  intend  to  argue  any  legal  points  with  you.  Let 
it  suffice,  that  we  are  aware  of  the  responsibility  of  our  position, 
but  that  we  are  determined  that  no  man  in  the  land  shall  treat 
our  authority  with  contempt,  or  abide  within  our  territory 
without  acknowledging  the  lawful  authority  of  this  company. 
To  our  king  and  to  our  God  we  are  responsible.  To  thee  we 
intend  but  to  announce  our  decision,  regarding  thee  as  one  who 


184  MERRY-MOUNT. 


hath  forfeited  all  right  to  a  formal  trial  and  conviction,  by  the 
manifest  notoriety  of  his  manifold  offences." 

"  Would  it  be  entirely  superfluous,"  said  Morton,  "  on  the 
part  of  the  Court,  to  give  the  criminal  a  trifling  hint  of  some 
few  of  the  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors  he  is  charged  withal  ? 
Although  convicted  without  trial,  it  would  be  a  gratification  to  a 
pardonable  curiosity,  could  I  be  instructed  as  to  my  offence, 
before  receiving  sentence." 

"  Thine  own  conscience  must  inform  thee  of  all  thy  atrocious 
acts,"  interrupted  Dudley,  fiercely ;  "  let  it  suffice  that  thou  art 
thoroughly  known  to  be  a  graceless  reveller,  a  lewd  mischief- 
maker,  and  a  ravening  wolf." 

"  Sayest  thou  so,  my  gentle  lambkin,"  cried  Morton,  filled 
with  indignation  at  the  injustice  with  which  he  considered  him 
self  treated,  and  venting  it  as  usual  in  the  most  rigmarole  terms. 
"  Callest  thou  me  a  wolf  indeed  ?  By  Jupiter,  then  have  I 
fallen  among  the  most  truculent  and  blood-thirsty  lambs  that 
ever  nibbled  in  Old  Canaan  or  New,  —  Inter  audaces  lupus  errat 
agnos,  —  as  Flaccus  hath  it." 

"Peace,  peace;  listen  to  the  governor,"  cried  several  of  the 
magistrates  in  a  breath,  indignant  at  the  prisoner's  insolence, 
and  determined  once  for  all  to  put  an  end  to  the  scene. 

"  Thomas  Morton,"  resumed  the  governor,  "  in  consideration 
of  thy  manifold  crimes  and  misdemeanors,  whereof  the  principal 
have  consisted  in  distributing  fire-arms  and  ammunition  among 
the  Indians,  contrary  to  his  late  and  to  his  present  Majesty's 
proclamation ;  in  lewd  and  riotous  behavior,  and  in  divers  dep 
redations  and  cruelties  exercised  towards  the  savages ;  for  these 
and  other  offences,  the  court  ordains,  that  thou  be  set  in  the  bil 
boes  at  such  time  and  place  as  they  shall  afterwards  direct; 
that  thou  be  afterwards  imprisoned,  until  such  time  as  the  com 
pany  shall  find  a  vessel  to  convey  thee  back  to  England  ;  that 
thy  house  at  Mount  Wollaston  be  burned  to  the  ground,  in 


MERRY-MOUNT.  195 


order  that  the  habitation  of  the  wicked  be  no  more  seen  in 
Israel ;  and  all  thy  worldly  goods  be  confiscated,  as  a  compen 
sation  to  the  Indians,  for  the  injuries  which  they  have  suffered  at 
thy  hands." 

"  Tantcene  animls  celestibus  Ira  '?  "  cried  the  culprit,  aston 
ished  and  indignant  at  the  severe  sentence  thus  communicated 
to  him  —  "To  be  set  in  the  stocks,  I,  Thomas  Morton  of 
Clifford's  Inn,  Gentleman,  Lord  of  Merry-Mount,  and  Sachem 
of  Passanogessit,  my  worldly  goods  to  be  confiscated,  my  house 
to  be  burned  ?  Wherein,  I  pray  thee,  right  worshipful  governor, 
consist  these  mighty  offences  by  me  committed  against  the 
peace  and  comfort  of  the  savages  ?  " 

"  Thou  hast  unjustly  taken  a  canoe  from  one  of  them,"  said 
Winthrop,  "  and  complaint  to  that  effect  hath  been  entered 
against  thee.  Furthermore,  it  hath  been  proved  that  thou  hast 
discharged  fire-arms  against  them  and  wounded  several,  for 
refusing  at  once  to  furnish  thee  with  the  said  canoe,  and  to  row 
thee  therein  across  the  river  of  Wessaguscus." 

"  O  Jephthah  !  Judge  of  Israel !  O  Minos  !  Radamanthus  !  and 
all  the~rmfsTie  justices  of  Pluto's  grim  dominion,"  cried  Morton 
in  a  whirlwind  of  eccentric  indignation,  "  is  this  the  jurispru 
dence  practised  in  the  kingdom  of  the  saints?  Then  may  the 
Lord  deliver  me  into  the  hands  of  sinners  from  this  time  forth 
and  forever !  Now  could  I  find  it  in  my " 

"  Silence,  silence,  thou  lewd,  impious,  blasphemous  bab 
bler  !  "  cried  Dudley,  indignant  at  the  prisoner's  boldness. 

"  I  will  not  be  silent,"  cried  Morton,  with  rising  rnge,  "  by 
heavens!  I  will  tell  thee  the  truth  to  your  grisly  beards;  my 
tongue  shall  wag  for  once,  even  if  ye  bore  it  with  red-hot  irons 
afterwards." 

"  Have  a  care,"  cried  Dudley,  "  lest  thou  be  taken  at  thy 
word." 

10* 


186  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  I  tell  ye,"  continued  Morton,  "  that  it  is  all  one  long,  ludi 
crous  patchwork,  this  your  list  of  charges  against  me.  I  know 
your  hatred  of  me;  I  know  ye  suspect  me;  I  know  ye  fear 
me.  Even  in  the  babble  of  your  chamber  here  have  I  learned 
the  foul  imputations  against  my  fame.  Ye  suspect  me  of  fos 
tering  and  encouraging  the  late  Indian  conspiracy  against  the 
Christians.  If  I  were  guilty  of  such  a  crime,  hanging  and 
quartering  were  too  good  for  me,  but " 

"  Thomas  Morton,"  interposed  the  Governor,  "  no  such 
charges  against  thee  have  been  preferred  to  this  court ;  neither 
do  I,  speaking  in  my  individual  capacity,  entertain  any  such 
suspicions  concerning  thee." 

"  And  so  then,"  resumed  the  prisoner,  "  I  am  really  to  be 
punished  for  cruelty  to  the  salvages,  I  their  sagamore,  suzerain, 
shepherd,  pow-wow  !  Why,  the  creatures  love,  reverence,  and 
obey  me.  They  frisk  round  me  like  lambs ;  they  will  bleat 
their  hearts  out  with  grief  when  they  see  my  palace  in  flames, 
and » 

"  Enough  of  this,"  interrupted  Winthrop;  "the  court  hath 
declared  its  sentence.  Nothing  can  alter  its  resolution.  Its 
decress  are  binding,  and  they  who  are  aggrieved  by  its  acts  have 
their  remedy  at  home,  but  not  here  within  our  patent.  All 
present  complaint  therefore  is  idle,  and  I  counsel  thee  in  the 
most  friendly  manner  not  to  aggravate  thy  offence  by  unneces 
sary  recalcitration  and  recrimination." 

"  Aye,  I  suppose  I  should  go  down  upon  my  marrow  bones," 
persisted  Morton,  "  and  offer  humble  and  hearty  thanks  that  ye 
have  left  my  head  upon  my  shoulders,  or  at  least  my  ears  upon 
my  head,  after  the  atrocious  crimes  of  which  I  have  been  con 
victed  and  condemned  without  a  trial.  But  I  promise  ye  that 
the  bowels  of  the  land  shall  be  stirred  for  this;  the  king  and 
council  shall  hear  of  it,  and  may  my  soul  perish  in  everlast- 
ing » 


MERRY-MOUNT.  ]§7 


"  Take  him  away,  take  him  away,  he  blasphemeth,"  roared 
the  deputy. 

"  Remove  the  criminal  at  once,"  added  Winthrop,  gently  but 
decidedly. 

And  with  this  the  men-at-arms  led  the  Lord  of  Merry-Mount 
into  confinement. 


188  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE    GENERAL    COURT. 

IT  was  the  middle  of  October.  An  autumnal  day,  such  as 
exists  only  in  the  western  hemisphere,  was  shining  upon  Shaw- 
mut,  or,  as  it  must  now  be  designated,  Boston. 

The  stately  groves,  which  adorned  without  encumbering  the 
picturesque  peninsula,  the  scattered  trees  of  colossal  size  which 
decorated  its  triple  hills,  wore  the  gorgeous  drapery  of  an  Amer 
ican  fall.  Unlike  the  forests  of  the  older  world,  which,  thinly 
clad  in  their  beggar-weeds  of  brown  and  russet,  stand  shivering 
and  sighing  in  the  dark  and  misty  atmosphere,  the  monarchs  of 
the  western  soil  had  arrayed  themselves  in  robes  of  Tyrian  pur 
ple  and  crimson,  scarlet  and  gold,  and  like  reckless  revellers  in 
some  plague-struck  city,  attired  in  all  their  carnival  bravery,  and 
beneath  a  vault  of  crystal  radiance,  were  awaiting  the  destroyer's 
stroke.  The  recent  pilgrims  from  the  older  world,  wandered 
through  these  glowing  and  glittering  woods  with  admiring  eyes. 
The  forests  seemed  like  the  subterranean  groves  with  which  the 
African  enchanter  charmed  Aladdin,  where  rods  of  blossoming 
rubies,  and  boughs  overladen  with  topaz,  emerald,  sapphire,  and 
diamonds,  dazzled, the  eye  with  their  luxuriant  and  intertangled 
magnificence,  and  where  every  footstep  fell  upon  countless  heaps 
of  crushed  but  sparkling  jewelry.  Or,  as  the  eye  rested  upon 
some  hill,  covered  from  base  to  summit  with  its  radiant  foliage, 
where  every  prismatic  color  seemed  flung  at  random  in  one  con 
fused  and  gaudy  mass,  a  vagrant  fancy  might  have  deemed  it 
nature's  mighty  palette,  with  all  the  blent  and  glaring  colors 
wherewith  she  paints  the  rainbows,  myriads  of  which  seemed 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


struggling  and  wreathing  themselves  through  the  forest  branches 
to  float  into  the  cloudless  heavens. 

There  is  no  power  in  language  to  represent,  certainly  not  to 
exaggerate,  the  brilliancy  of  an  American  forest  in  autumn.  The 
precise  reason  for  the  peculiarity  which  the  foliage  exhibits,  has 
never  been  satisfactorily  ascertained,  but  every  species  of  tree 
and  shrub  seerns  to  have  a  tint  peculiar  to  itself.  Upon  that 
memorable  morning,  which  maybe  called  the  birth-day  of  the 
Massachusetts  metropolis,  the  woods  which  decorated  the  pro 
montory,  or  covered  the  chain  of  hills  which  encircled  it,  were 
still  virgin  from  the  axe,  and  were  robed  in  all  their  natural 
glory.  The  oak  still  retained  his  foliage  undiminished,  but 
every  leaf,  though  green  in  the  centre,  was  edged  with  scarlet, 
and  spotted  with  purple  ;  the  sumac,  bare  and  leafless,  lifted  its 
crimson  crest  ;  the  grape  vines  hung  around  every  cliff  festoons 
of  clustering  coral  ;  the  red  maple,  first  to  be  transfixed  with 
the  frost-arrow,  stood  with  every  leaf  crimsoned  in  its  blood  ; 
the  hickory  looked  like  a  golden  tree  transplanted  from  some 
vegetable  mine,  as  it  displayed  its  long  leaves  of  pale  metallic 
yellow  ;  the  birch  looked  like  a  flaming  torch,  fit  for  the  hand  of 
autumn's  goddess,  when  seeking  through  the  world  her  ravished 
Proserpine  ;  while  mingled  with  and  contrasting  solemnly  with 
all,  the  dark  pines  held  on  high  their  plumes  of  fadeless  green. 

Such  was  the  scenery  which  surrounded  the  infant  village  of 
Boston.  Since  the  date  of  the  last  chapter,  nearly  all  the  in 
habitants,  accompanying  the  governor,  most  of  the  magistrates, 
and  the  minister,  Mr.  Wilson,  had  removed  to  the  triple-headed 
peninsula,  leaving  only  seventeen  male  inhabitants  at  the  opposite 
promontory  of  Charleston. 

Blaxton,  who  claimed  the  whole  of  Shawmut,  both  by  grant 
and  by  occupation,  had  however  himself  invited  the  settlers 
thither,  having  been  touched  by  their  sufferings,  and,  as  it  then 
seemed,  the  inadequacy  of  their  first  location  to  supply  their 


190  MERRY-MOUNT. 


wants.  He  still  dwelt  at  his  hermitage,  separated  by  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  peninsula  from  his  new  neighbors.  His  cottage, 
as  we  have  already  described,  was  placed  upon  the  edge  of  the 
western  cove,  while  the  lowly  church,  the  rude  town-house,  the 
market-place,  and  the  thatched  cabins  which  constituted  the 
little  village,  were  placed  upon  the  eastern  or  seaward  verge  of 
the  promontory,  nestled  beneath  the  commanding  summit  which 
was  soon  afterwards  fortified  upon  one  side,  and  protected  from 
the  northern  gales  by  the  tall  cliff  which  rose  upon  the  other, 
and  which  still  holds  the  ancient  tombs  of  the  Pilgrims. 

Walter  Ludlow  and  his  sister  had  some  time  before  removed 
to  the  new  settlement,  which  was  evidently  destined  to  become 
the  principal  position  in  the  new  colony. 

Henry  Maudsley  was  still  absent,  but  a  change  had  come  over 
the  relative  position  of  the  lovers  during  the  weary  months  of 
their  separation.  Communication  by  letter,  which  it  had  been 
absolutely  necessary  for  Maudsley  to  make  to  Walter  Ludlow, 
had  led  to  some  mutual  explanations.  Maudsley  discovered  the 
extent  and  the  wilfulness  of  his  errors  at  a  moment  when  it 
seemed  too  late.  Still,  if  he  had  remained  in  New  England,  it 
might  have  been  even  longer  before  the  perverse  fate  which 
seems  to  delight  in  perplexing  lovers,  would  have  allowed  them 
fully  to  understand  each  other.  Moreover,  as  has  been  already 
hinted,  a  total  revolution  in  his  feelings  upon  the  subject  con 
cerning  which  they  had  been  so  disunited,  had  taken  place 
Circumstances,  which  were  in  the  very  process  of  develop 
ment,  had  contributed  much  to  this  change,  which  the  love  of 
Esther  had  commenced.  The  example  of  Winthrop,  Johnson, 
and  others,  had  made  a  deep  impression  upon  his  excitable 
imagination.  Moreover,  he  had  been  recently  brought  into 
intimate  connection  with  many  of  the  leaders  and  eminent  per 
sons  concerned  in  the  Massachusetts  emigration,  who  remained 
in  England.  Had  not  an  imperious  necessity  forbidden,  he 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


would,  upon  first  receiving  the  letter  which  so  suddenly  and  yet 
so  simply  unsealed  his  eyes,  have  abandoned  a  country  which 
now  had  assumed  an  entirely  different  aspect  in  his  sight,  have 
hastened  across  the  ocean,  never  to  return,  and  have  united  his 
destiny  forever  with  that  of  Esther. 

Alas  !  at  the  very  moment  when  this  revulsion  first  commenced 
in  his  feelings,  he  had  found  it  impossible  to  indulge  and  to  fos 
ter  it;  and,  now  that  a  total  change  had  indeed  come  over  him, 
now  that  the  groundlessness  of  his  fears  and  suspicions  had  been 
explained  ;  now  that  none  of  the  obstacles  which  had  formerly 
impeded  the  current  of  their  loves,  existed,  a  new  and  almost  an 
insurmountable  one  seemed  to  have  interposed  itself,  which  time 
only  could  remove. 

It  was,  however,  a  source  of  happiness  to  Esther,  even  in  this 
the  period  of  their  separation,  that  now  at  least,  and  for  the  first 
time,  her  lover  and  herself  understood  and  confided  in  each 
other.  She  felt  a  firm  and  unwavering  hope,  now  that  their 
hearts  and  souls  were  indeed  united,  that  their  destinies  ere  long 
would  mingle  with  each  other,  and  flow  on  together  to  the  end. 

At  this  moment,  however,  she  had  cause  for  real  anxiety,  for 
a  long  and  an  inexplicable  silence  upon  the  part  of  Maudsley, 
had  given  rise  to  doubts  of  every  thing  but  of  his  truth. 

Other  exiles  of  note,  besides  Walter  Ludlow,  had  recently 
taken  up  their  residence  at  Shawmut.  Among  others,  the 
eccentric  Maverick,  the  first  slaveholder  of  Massachusetts,  had 
established  himself  and  his  negroes  upon  Noddle's  Island,  where 
he  had  built  himself  a  fort,  defended  by  four  pieces  of  artillery, 
and  where  he  treated  all  comers  with  a  generous  and  noted  hos 
pitality.  Among  others,  he  had  entertained  Governor  Winthrop 
and  his  friends,  upon  their  first  arrival  in  the  bay,  although  his 
politics  and  religion  were  opposed  to  those  of  the  company,  and 
although,  in  the  course  of  time,  but  little  cordiality  existed  be 
tween  the  new  comers  and  himself. 


192  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  first  general  court  had  been  that  day  held  at  the  new 
metropolis.  It  was  an  assembly  of  all  the  freemen  of  the  corpo 
ration  in  person.  The  rude  town-hall,  where  they  had  been 
gathered,  stood  where  now  stands  that  respectable  edifice,  which 
having  been  successively  state-house,  city  hall,  and  post-office, 
has  at  last  retired  in  its  old  age  from  public  employments,  and 
devoted  itself  to  private  affairs.  The  thatched  and  humble 
church  where  Wilson  ministered,  stood  nearly  opposite;  while, 
around  the  open  field  between,  which  served  as  a  market-place 
for  the  little  village,  and  which  accommodated  their  pillory, 
stocks  and  whipping-post,  were  clustered  the  mud-walled  cabins 
where  the  settlers  had  established  themselves,  in  anticipation  of 
the  coming  winter. 

A  stream  of  solemn  visaged  personages  had  poured  out  at  last 
from  the  rude  capitol.  The  court  was  over,  but  many  stragglers, 
in  their  steeple-crowned  hats  and  sad-colored  garments,  loitered 
about  the  agora,  or,  accompanied  by  their  demure  wives,  were 
wandering  among  the  primitive  groves  which  covered  the  greater 
portion  of  the  peninsula. 

A  good  deal  of  earnest  conversation  was  going  on  among  the 
loiterers  in  the  public  square.  Besides  many  very  important 
matters  of  a  purely  political  nature  which  had  been  discussed, 
several  topics  had  been  broached  at  the  general  court,  which 
threatened  to  sow  the  seeds  of  future  dissension  among  the 
colonists.  The  great  points  of  the  compatibility  of  offices, 
whether  ruling  elders  should  be  magistrates,  and  the  reverse, 
whether  the  political  influence  of  the  ministers  required  enlarge 
ment  or  contraction,  whether  the  civil  power  was  justified  in 
punishing  breaches  of  the  first  table,  and  many  other  kindred 
topics  had  been  touched  upon  in  the  town-hall,  and  were  dis 
cussed  with  great  fervor  by  the  straggling  parties  who  were  still 
sauntering  in  the  October  sunshine. 

Several  respectable  individuals,  among  whom  might  have  been 


MERRY-MOUNT.  193 


observed  Goodman  Faunce,  with  his  friends  Jonathan  Jellett 
and  Peter  Pid,  stood  under  a  mighty  oak  which  spread  its  rain 
bow  foliage  over  half  the  square. 

Being  all  freemen,  they  had  of  course  been  present  at  the 
general  court,  the  regular  organization  of  the  assembly  re 
quiring  the  personal  attendance  of  all  those  who  were  free  of  the 
corporation,  until  the  increasing  numbers,  a  few  years  later, 
required  the  introduction  of  the  representative  system. 

The  General  Court  was  in  reality  the  only  legislative  body 
under  the  charter,  although  the  Court  of  Assistants,  which  had 
been  designed  by  that  instrument  to  wield  only  executive  and 
judicial  functions,  had  already  begun,  by  a  patriarchal  assump 
tion  of  authority,  to  exercise  the  law-making  power  of  its  own 
will.  So  little  of  the  democratic  element,  however,  seems  to 
have  existed  at  that  early  day  in  Massachusetts,  that  this 
usurpation  on  the  part  of  the  magistrates,  unconscious  as  it 
almost  seems  to  have  been,  excited  no  jealousy  upon  the  part 
of  the  freemen,  to  whom  the  legislative  power  exclusively 
belonged,  and  at  this  very  first  general  court,  holden  at  Boston,  it 
had  been  unanimously  voted,  by  simple  erection  of  hands,  "that 
in  future  the  freemen  should  choose  the  assistants,  by  whom 
the  governor  and  deputy  should  be  chosen  from  among  them 
selves,  and  that,  furthermore,  the  said  governor,  deputy,  and 
assistants,  should  have  full  power  to  make  the  laws,  and  to 
choose  officers  to  execute  the  same.';  Such  a  quiet  and  volun 
tary  abdication  of  political  power  on  the  part  of  the  popular 
body  in  favor  of  their  rulers,  is  unexampled,  and  speaks  volumes 
in  favor  of  the  patriarchal,  pure,  and  unambitious  characters  of 
those  early  rulers.  How  often  in  the  world's  history  has  such 
unlimited  power  been  placed  in  a  few  hands,  and  been  restored 
without  a  struggle,  and  without  the  faintest  attempt  to  establish 
a  regular  and  unlimited  oligarchy  ! 

The  respectable  Faunce,  however,  seemed  to  have  a  glimmer- 

VOL.   II.  17 


194  MERRY-MOUNT. 


ing  notion  of  the  tendency  of  the  measure  which  had  so  recently 
passed  by  acclamation,  and  was  taking  some  pains,  now  that  the 
vote  was  taken,  to  point  out  its  consequences  to  his  companions 
"  The  worshipful  governor,"  said  he,  "  is  free  from  self- 
seeking,  and  desires  nothing  but  the  temporal  and  eternal  ad 
vantages  of  the  colony.  But  look  ye,  my  friends,  the  govern 
ment  may  come  in  time  to  be  administered  by  hands  which  are 
not  so  clean,  and  I,  for  one,  should  be  well  pleased  to  have  a 
voice  in  the  making  the  laws  which  are  to  govern  me,  the  more 
so  as  his  majesty's  charter  hath  given  me  the  right  to  do  so." 

"  Thou  wert  even  a  caviller  in  politics,  Goodman  Faunce," 
answered  Jellett ;  "  now  I  confess  for  my  part  that  I  feel  but 
little  calling  for  such  knotty  subjects.  If  the  worthy  and  wor 
shipful  magistrates  are  willing  to  take  this  troublesome  burthen 
off  our  backs,  why  I  must  even  feel  beholden  to  them  for  their 
kindness.  They  know  more  of  law-making  than  we  do.  To 
make  laws,  brother  Faunce,  is  a  trade,  I  take  it,  like  any  other. 
Now  if  it  comes  to  mending  a  kettle  or  a  stew-pan,  I,  being  by 

temporal  calling,  a  tinker,  may  very " 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense,"  exclaimed  Faunce,  with  some  excite 
ment,  "  although  I  have  the  deepest  veneration  for  the  character 
of  our  worthy  magistrates,  or  rather  for  our  chief  magistrate, 
for  truly  there  are  times  when  the  deputy  is  little  more  than  a 
vessel  of  wrath,  and  is  a  hard-handed  man  at  a  bargain,  more 
over,  while  the  governor  is  as  generous  as  sunshine,  still  I  say 
do  I  mislike  this  laying  the  reins  on  the  back  of  a  horse,  how 
ever  good-tempered  he  may  be.  The  best  of  us  are  but  sinful, 
and  the  bit  will  get  between  the  teeth." 

"  It  is  highly  generous  upon  the  part  of  their  worships," 
modestly  suggested  Peter  Pid,  "  to  take  this  troublesome  office  of 
making  laws,  as  well  as  of  seeing  to  their  execution.  Few 
would  be  willing  or  able  to  do  this  double  work  in  a  holy  cause. 
But  they  are  competent.  Issachar  is  a  strong  ass,  though  he 


MERRY-MOUNT.  195 


coucheth  between  two  burdens,"  concluded  Master  Pid,  intend 
ing  to  be  complimentary  to  the  magistrates. 

Dismissing  the  discussion  of  the  recent  vote  of  the  assembly 
as  a  topic,  upon  which,  perhaps,  too  many  words  had  been 
wasted,  although  without  their  consciousness,  it  had  effected  a 
political  revolution  in  an  instant,  the  three  worthies  passed  to  a 
warm,  although  somewhat  unprofitable  discussion  of  some 
knotty  points  in  divinity,  which  had  already  begun  to  distract 
the  metaphysics,  and  consequently  the  politics  of  the  colony. 
Goodman  Faunce,  much  to  the  horror  of  his  associates,  broached 
the  doctrine  of  justification  by  sanctification,  which  he  doughtily 
defended,  while  Pid  treated  the  doctrine  of  good  works  with 
indignation,  and  stood  manfully  out  for  a  covenant  of  grace. 
Several  persons,  both  male  and  female,  joined  the  party  in  the 
discussion,  and  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  before  it  had 
terminated.  In  the  meantime,  however,  as  the  usual  hour  for 
such  ceremonies  approached,  the  centre  of  the  market-place  was 
cleared,  in  order  that  punishment  might  be  inflicted  upon  several 
persons  who  had  incurred  it  during  the  past  few  weeks.  All  the 
whipping  and  branding,  however,  which  had  been  ordained  by 
the  last  Court  of  Assistants,  had  been  dispatched  upon  the  pre 
ceding  day,  so  that  the  whipping-post  was  idle.  Culprits,  how 
ever,  who  had  committed  offences  of  a  lighter  nature,  were  now 
led  forward. 

First  of  all  came  a  beadle,  leading  along  two  women,  with 
their  hands  tied  together,  and  with  their  heads  and  faces  covered 
with  an  iron  framework,  one  bar  of  which  was  ingeniously  fitted 
across  their  tongues,  compelling  them  to  keep  their  mouths 
open,  and  the  unruly  member  quiet.  These  were  notorious 
scolds,  a  kind  of  culprits  which  the  wisdom  of  those  patriarchal 
days  punished  in  common  with  drunkards,  vagrants,  Quakers, 
Antinomians,  and  other  disturbers  of  the  public  peace.  After 
being  solemnly  paraded  up  and  down  the  market-place  for  half 


196  MERRY-MOUNT. 


a  dozen  times,  each  was  tied  in  a  chair,  and  seated  before  the 
door  of  her  own  house,  where  she  was  to  be  left  till  evening. 

Next  came  a  quizzical  figure,  led  along  by  a  sergeant  armed 
with  a  halberd.  It  was  a  famous  toper,  undergoing  punishment 
for  his  manifold  deviations  from  the  path  of  total  abstinence. 
He  was  attired  in  what  was  called  the  drunkard's  cloak,  and 
which  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  beer-cask,  with  the 
lower  end  knocked  out,  so  as  to  allow  him  to  use  his  legs,  with 
a  hole  through  the  other,  through  which  appeared  his  head,  and 
two  apertures  in  the  sides  through  which  his  hands  were  thrust. 
Thus  coopered  up  in  the  emblem  of  his  sins,  the  culprit  was 
several  times  solemnly  paraded  up  and  down  the  square,  and 
then  tied  to  the  whipping-post,  which  stood  very  near  the  stocks. 
As  the  culprit  had,  however,  upon  this  occasion,  been  only 
sentenced  to  public  exposure  till  nightfall,  and  not  to  personal 
castigation,  he  was  left  standing  in  his  cloak  at  the  post,  to 
endure  the  jibes,  the  rebukes,  or  the  silent  pity  of  all  the 
inhabitants. 

In  the  mean  time,  this  being  the  day  appointed  for  Morton's 
penance,  and  the  hour  of  noon  having  arrived,  a  sergeant,  with 
four  men-at-arms  appeared,  bringing  with  them  in  durance 
vile,  the  luckless  Lord  of  Merry-Mount.  He  apppeared  to 
have  used  all  his  philosophy  to  show  himself  superior  to  his 
fate.  He  walked  along  between  two  severe  looking  Puritans, 
with  a  firm  and  dignified  step.  His  countenance  wore  its 
usual  frank  and  bold  expression,  although  an  occasional  nervous 
twitch  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  showed  that  a  sense  of  hu 
miliation  was  working  within  him.  He  allowed  himself,  how 
ever,  to  be  seated  upon  the  rough  log,  lifted  one  leg  after  another 
to  be  inclosed  in  the  appropriate  apertures,  and  saw  the  plank 
duly  let  down  and  fastened  without  a  struggle. 

When  he  was  thus  properly  ensconced  in  his  ignominious 
position,  the  soldiers  left  him  to  his  fate,  to  be  a  mark  for  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  197 


curiosity  or  malevolence  of  all  who  passed  across  the  market 
place  until  evening. 

The  knowledge  that  the  celebrated  Master  of  Misrule  at 
Merry-Mount  was  that  day  to  be  set  in  the  stocks,  was,  of  course, 
very  general  among  the  settlers,  so  that  he  had  sat  there  but  a 
very  few  minutes,  before  half  the  inhabitants  of  Boston,  besides 
many  from  the  neighboring  plantations,  thronged  to  that  wilder 
ness-square  to  look  at  him. 

lie  preserved  his  equanimity,  however,  as  if  determined  not  to 
let  the  Puritans  observe  how  deeply  he  felt  his  degradation. 

"  Quid  omnium  vuUus  in  unum  me  truces  ?  "  muttered  he, 
quoting  his  favorite  Horace  to  the  last.  "  Why  the  devil  are  ye 
all  gaping  at  me  ?  Saw  ye  never  a  gentleman  and  a  cavalier  in 
unfortunate  circumstances  before?  Look  your  fill,  I  beg  ye; 
ye  have  won  the  day,  ye  rascally  croppies,  so  even  enjoy  your 
triumph." 

With  these  and  other  similar  ejaculations,  uttered,  however, 
in  an  inaudible  tone,  did  the  deposed  potentate  vent  his  spleen 
and  console  himself  in  his  downfall. 

lie  had  not  sat  there  long,  before  he  had  been  examined  and 
commented  upon  by  nearly  all  the  inhabitants,  after  which,  the 
first  curiosity  having  been  appeased,  he  was  left  at  times  in  total 
solitude,  interrupted  at  intervals  by  the  visit  of  some  straggling 
wayfarer. 

As  the  square  was  for  a  moment  empty,  the  Lord  of  Merry- 
Mount  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  rueful  individual  in  the  wooden 
cloak,  who  stood  upon  the  other  side  of  the  field. 

The  careless  look,  however,  which  he  threw  upon  his  brother 
in  affliction,  became  a  fixed  and  concentrated  stare,  as  he  sud 
denly  recognised  the  familiar  features  of  the  individual  who 
stood  there  in  such  fantastic  plight. 

"  Hey-day,"  he  cried,  and  would  have  rubbed  his  eyes  for 
greater  certainty,  had  his  hands  not  been  tied  behind  him  ;  u  hey- 


198  MERRY-MOUNT. 


day,  is  it  thou,  indeed,  most  cherished  of  my  vassals.  Is  it  thou, 
indeed,  my  butler,  my  Bootefish?  Proh  pudor !  " 

"  This  be  that  individual,  your  worship,"  answered  Bootefish, 
for  it  was  no  other  than  that  worthy  person,  who  was  terminat 
ing  thus  ignobly  a  vagrant  career  in  different  parts  of  New  Eng 
land,  which  he  had  begun  upon  Morton's  first  capture  by  Miles 
Standish;  "  this  be  the  individual,  if  a  man  in  a  wooden  jerkin 
like  this  can  be  called  by  that  honored  name.  This  be  the  way 
the  bloody  psalm-singers  have  coopered  up  your  faithful  Boote 
fish.  Truly  they  hate  us  of  the  true  church,  your  worship." 

"  Ah,  they  have  got  the  upper  hand  of  us,"  said  Morton, 
"  and  they  show  no  generosity  in  their  victory.  And  yet,  by 
Jove !  I  could  laugh  at  the  figure  we  cut  here.  Here  sits  the 
potentate  upon  his  throne,  and  there  stands  the  prelate  in  his 
robe.  What  a  termination  to  our  golden  visions !  " 

"  Truly,  your  worship,  I  have  had  no  visions  of  late,"  answer 
ed  Bootefish,  "  but  of  the  whipping-post.  And  yet,  may  I  be 
damned  !  if  I  would  not  take  that  as  soon  as  this.  To  wear  a 
hogshead  under  my  jerkin  is  what  I  have  ever  done,  thus  carry 
ing  out,  as  best  I  might,  the  merciful  intentions  of  nature.  But 
a  hogshead  outside  is  a  disgrace  which  I  cannot  brook.  A 
pretty  figure  do  I  cut,  forsooth,  in  this  ridiculous  cask." 

"  Not  a  whit,  not  a  whit,"  said  the  indomitable  Morton,  gaily. 
"It  becomes  thee  like  a  robe  of  honor.  Was  not  Coeur  de 
Lion  kept  in  a  cage  ?  Did  not  Diogenes  live  in  his  tub  ?  Nay, 
thou  lookest  like  the  ancient  philosopher,  seeking  among  these 
sour-faced  Puritans  for  a  man  ;  and  for  a  lantern,  hast  thou  not 
that  radiant  nose  of  thine?" 

As  Morton  spoke,  several  persons  crossed  the  square,  looking 
sadly  and  earnestly,  first  at.  one  of  the  culprits,  and  then  at  the 
other.  Last  of  all  came  Walter  Ludlow  and  his  sister,  accom 
panied  by  an  individual  with  the  most  peaked  and  pointed  hat, 
the  most  staid  and  starched  collar,  and  the  most  dismal  cloak 
that  could  be  found  in  the  whole  patent. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  199 


The  step  of  Esther  was  less  elastic,  and  her  countenance  more 
dejected  than  it  had  ever  been.  A  shadow  was  upon  that  beau 
tiful  face,  as  if  projected  from  afar  by  coming  evil.  She  threw 
a  hurried  glance  of  sincere  compassion  at  the  criminals,  and 
past  hastily  onward  with  her  brother  towards  their  new  domicile, 
which,  much  superior  in  character  to  the  rude  hovels  around, 
had  been  constructed  in  part  of  the  materials  brought  from  their 
old  residence  at  Naumkeak,  and  stood  more  than  half  a  mile 
south  from  the  church,  and  not  far  from  the  *'  governor's  green," 
where  Winthrop's  mansion  was  soon  after\Vards  erected. 

The  individual,  however,  who  accompanied  the  Ludlows  was 
observed  to  lift  his  hands,  and  to  roll  his  eyes  upward  with  a 
kind  of  holy  horror,  as  the  prisoners  met  his  view.  The  Lud 
lows  passed  on,  but  this  person  still  lingered  in  the  square, 
influenced,  apparently,  by  curiosity,  or  by  a  desire  of  adminis 
tering  a  rebuke  to  the  two  unhappy  culprits.  He  stood  for  a 
moment  in  the  centre  of  the  square,  looking  alternately  at 
Morton  and  at  Bootefish  ;  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  then 
seemed  almost  to  prostrate  himself  upon  the  ground.  Whether, 
contrary  to  Puritanic  custom,  he  intended  kneeling  down  in 
prayer  in  behalf  of  the  prisoners,  did  not  for  a  moment  distinctly 
appear.  He  said  not  a  word,  however,  but  rising  up,  a  moment 
afterwards,  he  suddenly  flung  a  cabbage-stalk  at  Bootefish  with 
such  unerring  precision,  that  it  hit  him  full  upon  the  nose;  and 
then  turning  round,  he  bestowed  the  same  favor,  although  with 
less  success,  upon  the  unfortunate  Lord  of  Merry-Mount.  Then 
lifting  the  steeple-crowned  hat  from  his  head  for  an  instant,  he 
disclosed  the  grinning,  malicious  face  of  Peter  Cakebread ; 
uttered  a  shrill  laugh,  and,  gathering  up  his  long  black  cloak 
about  his  waist,  he  threw  a  somerset,  such  as  was  never  exe 
cuted  before  or  since  in  Puritanic  garments,  and  then  left  the 
square. 

•"  Alas!  "  muttered  Morton,  whom  this  last  indignity,  inflicted 


200  MERRY-MOUNT. 


by  the  meanest  of  his  former  vassals,  wounded  deeply  —  "alas  ! 
is  this  the  end  of  all  my  splendid  visions  ?  Was  it  for  this  that 
I  have  abandoned  my  country  and  my  profession  ?  Was  it  for 
this  that  I  gave  up  the  lord  keeper's  wig?  To  sit  in  the  stocks 
and  be  pelted  by  Peter  Cakebread  1  My  race  is  run ;  my  sun  is 
set.  Still,  although  the  saints  have  conquered  the  sinner,  shall 
they  not  crush  his  spirit  ?  Do  your  worst,  ye  chosen  of  the 
Lord  !  degrade  his  person,  confiscate  his  worldly  goods,  ye 
terrify  him  not,  — 

'  Si  fractus  illabatur  orbis, 
Impavidum  ferient  ruinae.'  " 


MERRY-MOUNT.  20 1 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE  KNIGHT'S  LAST  SCHEME. 

SEVERAL  weeks  after  the  occurrence  of  the  last  scenes  which 
have  been  depicted,  Esther  Ludlow  was  walking  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  her  new  home.  Her  destiny  seemed  still  perverse. 
Now  that  the  great  cause,  to  which  her  soul  had  been  devoted, 
had  triumphed  over  every  obstacle,  and  had  already  established 
itself  upon  foundations  never  to  be  shaken  ;  now  that  she  could 
have  gone  exultingly  forth,  like  Miriam,  with  timbrel  and  song 
of  triumph,  was  she  yet  oppressed  with  a  deep  sense  of  her  own 
personal  disappointment?  A  change  had  come  over  her  destiny 
during  the  interval  which  had  elapsed.  Maudsley  was  still 
away,  and  nothing  concerning  his  fate  had  reached  her  for  a 
lono-  time.  But  although  an  ocean  rolled  between  them,  their 

O  3  * 

hearts  were  no  longer  separated  by  an  unfathomable  gulf  of  sus 
picion  and  mutual  distrust. 

Maudsley  had  left  New  England,  believing  that  Esther's  affec 
tions  had  been  alienated  from  him,  doubting,  indeed,  whether 
there  had  ever  been  the  faintest  response  upon  her  part  to  his 
deep  and  absorbing  passion.  He  had,  however,  previously  to 
his  departure,  allowed  himself,  as  we  have  seen,  to  send  a  solemn 
warning  to  her,  touching  the  character  of  the  man  who  appeared 
to  have  exercised  over  her  some  mysterious  and  unnatural  fasci 
nation.  He  would  have  been  incapable,  moved  by  jealousy 
alone,  to  have  traduced  the  character  of  one,  concerning  whom 
he  knew  little,  while  he  suspected  much  ;  but  even  had  Esther 
been  nothing  to  him,  he  would  still  have  felt  it  his  imperious 
duty  to  warn  her  of  her  danger,  such  reliance  did  he  place 


202  MERRY-MOUNT. 


upon  his  presentiments,  his  dim  reminiscences,  and  the  fragmen 
tary  knowledge  which  he  had  acquired  through  Cakebread's 
treachery.  Neither  did  he  hesitate,  although  a  delicate  sense 
of  honor  would  at  first  seem  to  have  forbidden  it,  to  make 
full  use  of  all  the  information  conveyed  to  him  by  that  crafty 
knave.  The  reader  will  judge  in  the  sequel,  whether  the  nature 
of  the  circumstances  did  not  more  than  justify  him  in  such  a 
course. 

The  very  first  letter  received  by  him  after  his  departure  from 
New  England  was  from  Walter  Ludlow.  His  own  answer  paved 
the  way  in  the  most  natural  manner  possible,  for  a  full  and  free 
explanation  on  the  part  both  of  the  brother  and  sister.  The 
clear  sunlight  of  truth  dissolved  all  the  misty  phantoms  which 
had  disturbed  his  reason,  and  he  bitterly  acknowledged  and 
deplored  the  wilful  and  blind  impetuosity  by  which  he  had  both 
suffered  and  inflicted  so  much  distress. 

But  Esther  was  happy,  when  she  reflected  that  her  lover  now 
sympathized  fully,  deeply  with,  her  own  feelings;  and  his  letters, 
which  reached  her  at  long  intervals,  breathed  at  once  the  most 
passionate  devotion  to  herself,  and  the  most  ardent  affection  for 
the  great  cause  which,  in  accordance  with  the  enthusiastic  tem 
perament  of  that  age  of  religion,  his  impressionable  spirit  had 
felt  itself  suddenly  called  upon,  as  was  St.  Paul's,  by  a  superna 
tural  voice,  to  reverence,  and  with  all  his  heart  to  serve.  Still 
his  absence  was  protracted,  and  although  Esther  was  aware  that 
matters  of  deep  import  had  occupied  him,  and  required  his 
presence  in  different  parts  of  Europe,  yet  she  felt  sick  at  heart, 
when  she  reflected  upon  the  many  dangers  that  might  still  lie  in 
his  pathway. 

Reflecting  intensely  and  sadly  upon  these  matters,  Esther 
lingered  that  morning  in  the  leafless  grove  which  extended  west 
erly  from  her  new  abode.  A  presentiment  of  coming  evil,  for 
which  she  could  not  account,  and  which  she  could  not  shake 


MERRY-MOUNT.  203 


off,  weighed  upon  her  spirit,  as  the  coming  thunder-storm  op 
presses  and  surcharges  the  yet  cloudless  atmosphere. 

The  radiant  autumn  was  no  more.  Bleak  December,  with 
its  long  nights  of  stormy  darkness,  and  its  short  hours  of  pale 
and  broken  sunshine,  sat  upon  its  gloomy  throne.  The  day  was 
chill,  the  landscape  brown  and  dreary.  Suddenly  Esther  heard 
a  step  in  the  forest ;  she  looked  up,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
many  months  saw  the  form  of  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner.  The 
warning  images  which  had  thronged  her  brain  for  the  past  hours, 
now  seemed  to  have  had  their  meaning.  They  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  been  compressed  and  concentrated  into  one  threatening 
phantom,  and  that  phantom  wore  the  form  of  the  hated  and 
mysterious  knight.  She  had  thought  him  absent,  never  to 
return;  she  had  almost  deemed  him  dead,  at  least  she  had 
schooled  herself  into  the  conviction  that  his  dark  countenance 
was  never  again  to  be  bent  upon  her  own,  that  his  stealthy  step 
was  never  again  to  cross  her  path ;  when  lo  !  at  the  very  instant 
when  her  soul  was  most  gloomy,  when  her  heart  hung  like  lead 
in  her  bosom,  at  that  very  instant  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  stood 
before  her.  5T  was  strange,  she  had  certainly  seen  him,  gliding 
beneath  the  leafless  branches  of  an  oak.  That  spare,  Arab-like 
figure,  those  dark  and  frowning  features,  could  not  be  mistaken  ; 
and  yet,  as  she  looked  again,  he  was  not  there.  Could  he  have 
passed  her  by  without  observing  or  without  recognising  her  ? 
Had  he  gone  forward  to  the  house  which  stood  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  spot?  Was  the  apparition  but  a  creation  of 
her  boding  and  disordered  fancy  ?  Had  the  earth  suddenly  gaped 
and  swallowed  him?  It  was  a  mystery,  but  every  thing  con 
nected  with  the  knight  was  a  mystery.  All  that  she  knew  was, 
that  she  had  seen  him  within  ten  yards  of  the  spot  where  she 
stood,  and  that  now  he  had  disappeared. 

While  she  was  thus  ruminating  upon  the  strangeness  of  the 
circumstance,  she  felt  herself  suddenly  seized  from  behind, 


204  MERRY-MOUNT. 


with  determined  although  gentle  force.  She  would  have  cried 
aloud,  but  even  as  in  the  motionless  tortures  of  a  night-mare, 
her  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  her  mouth.  She  would  have 
struggled,  but  her  limbs  refused  to  obey  her  will.  A  sensation 
as  if,  after  all,  she  was  but  suffering  the  short-lived  agony  of  a 
waking  dream,  overpowered  her.  In  an  instant  afterwards  her  face 
was  muffled  in  a  cloak,  her  arms  were  bound,  and  thus  pinioned, 
blinded,  and  deprived  of  all  power  of  motion  or  utterance,  she 
found  herself  rapidly  borne  away  she  knew  not  whither.  Within 
five  minutes  afterwards,  she  felt  herself  gently  deposited  upon  a 
seat,  and  after  a  brief  delay,  she  learned  by  the  rocking  motion 
and  the  noise  of  dashing  waves,  that  she  had  been  placed  in  a 
boat,  and  was  now  upon  the  water.  Whither,  wherefore,  or  in 
whose  company,  she  knew  not.  Not  a  whisper  reached  her  ear, 
not  a  ray  of  light  pierced  the  thick  veil  by  which  her  vision  was 
carefully  shrouded.  Gardiner's  dark  image  rose  again  to  affright 
her  soul,  and  she  entertained  not  a  doubt  that  he  was  the  author 
of  this  fearful  misfortune,  which  had  now  befallen  her,  and  seemed 
to  threaten  her  destruction.  WThether  the  knight,  still  brooding 
angrily  over  her  absolute  and  peremptory  rejection  of  his  ad 
dresses,  had  returned  after  so  long  an  absence  to  wreak  that 
vengeance  upon  her  which  he  had  so  darkly  and  obscurely 
threatened  at  their  last  and  decisive  interview;  whether  she  had 
fallen  suddenly  into  the  hands  of  some  prowling  party  of  savages ; 
whether  she  was  now  floating  in  a  canoe,  to  be  borne  away  into 
fearful  captivity  in  the  remote  wilderness;  whether  she  was  to 
be  placed  on  board  some  outward  bound  vessel,  of  which  she 
knew  there  were  one  or  two  to  set  sail  immediately  from  the 
colony,  to  be  borne  beyond  the  ocean,  she  knew  not ;  and  she 
lay  shuddering,  praying  and  anxiously  expecting  her  doom  with 
horror  as  intense  as  could  pervade,  without  absolutely  overmas 
tering  and  destroying,  a  solitary  woman's  reason. 

An  eternity  of  anguish  seemed   to  have  passed  over  her,  al- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  205 


though  she  could  not  form  with  the  slightest  accuracy  an  opinion 
as  to  the  actual  length  of  time  which  had  elapsed  since  her  first 
capture,  when  the  sails  of  the  boat  seemed  to  be  flapping  heav 
ily,  and  then  to  be  furled  around  the  masts.  Directly  afterwards 
the  light  keel  seemed  to  touch  a  pebbly  shore,  and  she  was  then 
again  lifted  from  her  position,  and  borne  rapidly  away. 

After  a  few  moments,  a  door  seemed  to  open,  and  she  was 
carried  within  a  building.  She  was  then  placed  with  great  gen 
tleness  upon  a  cushioned  seat,  and  directly  afterwards,  the  cords 
which  bound  her  were  loosened,  and  the  cloak  by  which  she 
was  muffled  was  removed.  For  a  moment  she  dared  not  to  open 
her  eyes,  and  she  sat  collecting  all  the  energy  which  was  left 
her,  before  she  should  venture  upon  the  new  scene  of  horror 
which  doubtless  was  impending.  At  last  she  looked  wildly  and 
fearfully  round.  She  found  herself  in  a  strange  apartment,  spa 
cious  but  uncouth  in  its  appearance,  evidently  the  abode  of 
civilized  men  rather  than  of  savages,  but  resembling  in  its  equip 
ments  nothing  which  she  had  ever  before  seen.  She  deemed 
herself  alone,  and  was  uttering  a  devout  thanksgiving  for  even 
this  momentary  respite,  when  a  stealthy  step  struck  her  ear, 
and  then  she  found  herself  in  the  company  of  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner. 

"  We  meet  again,  Esther  Ludlow,"  said  he,  in  a  gentle  and 
melancholy  tone,  "  we  meet  again,  never  to  separate." 

Esther,  as  pale  as  ashes,  looked  in  his  face  without  power  of 
reply. 

"Since  we  were  last  together,"  resumed  the  knight,  "I  have 
dwelt  amid  savage  scenes,  and  with  men  more  savage  than  the 
deserts  where  they  dwell.  I  intended  to  beat  down,  to  annihi 
late  the  passion  which  had  taken  possession  of  my  soul.  The 
idleness  to  which  the  wilderness  has  doomed  me  has,  I  suppose, 
rendered  the  feeling  uncontrollable." 

"  Spare   me   a   repetition  of  these   odious    professions,"   said 

VOL.   II.  18 


206  MERRY-MOUNT. 


Esther,   looking    at    the   knight   with    a   pale    and    impassible 
visage. 

"I  have  but  very  few  words  to  speak,  Esther,"  he  continued, 
u  and  those  will  soon  be  spoken.  I  intended,  both  for  your  sake 
and  my  own,  to  conquer  a  fatal  passion.  I  have  not  been  used 
to  hear  words  of  contempt  and  repugnance  from  woman's  lips, 
and  yet  I  endured  your  disdain  without  resentment." 

"  Till  this  moment,"  interrupted  Esther,  her  blood  mounting 
with  indignation  at  the  calm  and  measured  language  of  her  per 
secutor,  "  till  this  moment  I  hardly  knew  what  disdain  and 
hatred  were.  Heaven  forgive  me  that  I  want  words  to  express 
my  loathing  for  you  now  !  " 

"I  have  already  told  you,"  he  continued,  "  that  such  language 
from  your  gentle  sex  is  new  to  my  ear.  I  never  knelt  so  long 
in  abject  adoration  to  living  creature  as  I  have  done  at  your  feet, 
and  I  have  received  nothing  but  reproaches.  I  resign  all  hope 
of  your  love " 

"  Then  release  me,  restore  me,  if  you  are  not  in  truth  a  very 
demon,"  said  Esther. 

"  Pardon  me,"  continued  the  knight,  "  I  fear  that  my  habits 
of  life,  and  the  philosophy  in  which  I  have  been  schooled, 
have  rendered  my  character  incomprehensible  to  a  person  as 
single-hearted  and  pure-minded  as  yourself.  You  are  now  within 
my  power." 

"If  you  are  a  man,"  exclaimed  Esther,  "you  are  incapable  of 
abusing  that  power." 

"  If  I  were  not  a  man,"  coolly  resumed  the  knight,  "  perhaps 
I  should  be.  You  are,  I  repeat  it,  absolutely  in  my  power.  I 
am  a  man  bound  by  no  ties,  recognising  no  laws,  obeying  the 
will  of  no  living  creature  but  my  own,  respecting  nothing,  fear 
ing  nothing,  loving  nothing,  but  yourself." 

"  May  God  in  his  wrath  blast  such  blasphemous  love !  "  said 
Esther,  with  ungovernable  scorn. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  207 


"Your  hatred  keeps  pace  with  my  hourly  increasing  passion," 
resumed  the  knight;  "  fate  is  proverbially  perverse  to  lovers. 
Let  me  then  waste  words  no  longer.  You  are,  at  this  moment, 
the  mistress  of  your  destiny.  Let  me  remind  you  that,  upon 
one  subject  in  times  gone  by,  there  was  sympathy  between  us. 
To  be  the  creator  of  an  empire  in  the  desert,  was  a  great 
thought,  which  created  the  same  lofty  emotion  in  your  bosom  as 
in  my  own." 

"You  know  better  even  than  myself,"  replied  Esther,  "that 
pretence  of  sympathy  between  us  is  a  mockery,  but  most  of  all, 
upon  the  subject  to  which  you  allude.  I  have  learned  to  despise 
your  hypocrisy  and  falsehood  in  all  things,  in  nothing  more  than 
this." 

"  We,  perhaps,  have  contemplated  the  same  object  from  dif 
ferent  points  of  view,"  continued  Gardiner,  "  but  let  that  pass. 
Let  me  now  inform  you,  that  before  a  few  months  are  over,  this 
whole  wilderness  of  New  England  will  call  me  undisputed 
master.  The  whole  rich  province  of  Massachusetts  is,  at  this 
moment,  a  manor,  belonging  to  me  alone,  and  transmissible  to 
my  descendants  forever.  All  the  efforts  of  these  besotted 
Puritans  are  silently  inuring  to  my  benefit,  and  this  infant 
empire,  with  all  its  inappreciable  future  of  wealth  and  grandeur, 
belongs  to  me  alone." 

"These  are  the  ravings  of  a  madman,"  said  Esther,  looking 
with  min cried  fear  and  wonder  at  the  dark  countenance  of  her 

& 

companion. 

"  Believe  it  not,  beautiful  Esther,"  he  continued,  with  a  little 
more  excitement  of  manner,  but  in  the  same  deliberate  accents. 
"  I  am  no  enthusiastic  visionary.  My  kingdom  is  of  this  world. 
My  schemes  are  positive,  solid,  material,  not  the  delusive  rap 
tures  of  a  dreamer.  I  repeat  that,  at  this  moment,  the  choice 
is  in  your  o\vn  hands." 

"  You  can  offer  me  nothing  but  misery,  perdition,  infamy," 


208  MERRY-MOUNT. 


said  Esther,  who  seemed  to  feel  the  icy  hand  of  death  upon  her 
heart,  as  she  contemplated  her  forlorn  position. 

"  I  have  received  letters  within  these  three  hours,"  continued 
Gardiner.  "  Had  not  the  incorrigible  and  mischievous  reckless 
ness  of  one  of  my  agents,  thrown  many  obstacles  in  my  way, 
my  plot  would  not  have  been  so  long  in  ripening.  Know, 
however,  that  the  boasted  patent  of  your  colony  is  not  worth 
the  parchment  upon  which  it  is  written,  that  thousands  of  men 
and  millions  of  money  are  to  be  instantly  placed  at  my  disposal, 
/  and  that  ere  six  months  have  past,  I  shall  be  proclaimed  heredi 
tary  Lord  Proprietor  and  Palatine  of  Massachusetts,  and  Gov 
ernor-General  and  Admiral  of  all  New  England." 

"  Is  the  blessed  charter  indeed  revoked?"  murmured  Esther, 
feeling,  in  spite  of  her  own  fearful  position,  a  pang  of  regret  at 
the  downfall  of  the  great  cause. 

"  Aye,  the  charter  is  worthless  and  already  annulled  !  " 
exclaimed  Gardiner,  scrupling  not  to  hazard  a  falsehood,  which 
he,  however,  believed  would  shortly  become  a  truth,  "  and  it  is 
now  for  you  to  decide.  Forget  the  disdain  and  the  hatred  with 
which  you  have  repaid  my  passion,  and  condescend  to  partake 
the  power,  to  share  the  councils,  and  to  direct  the  destiny  of 
one  who  adores  you,  as  man  never  worshipped  before." 

"  Never,  never  !  "  cried  Esther,  shutting  her  eyes  and  holding 
up  both  her  hands,  as  if  to  hide  some  dreadful  vision. 

"  Be  not  too  hasty,"  quietly  resumed  the  knight,  "  the  wife  of 
the  Lord  Palatine  of  the  Massachusetts,  will  hold  no  mean  posi 
tion,  and  have  no  little  amount  of  human  happiness  within  her 
high  control.  Wild  though  her  domains,  at  this  instant,  may  be, 
an  empire  which  stretches  across  a  continent,  and  plants  its  feet 
upon  two  oceans,  is  worthy  to  occupy  an  ambitious  soul.  Of 
this  wide  territory  you  shall  be  mistress." 

"  Your  words  are  vain  and  idle,"  replied  Esther,  with  cold 
and  icy  contempt,  "  now  that  I  understand  your  trifling  and 


MERRY-MOUNT.  209 


vulgar  ambition,  your  sordid  schemes,  I  loathe  you  more  than 
ever.  I  never  will  be  your  wife." 

"  Then  live  to  be  my  hand-maid,  my  bond-woman,  my  slave !  " 
cried  the  knight  in  ungovernable  passion,  "  refuse  to  be  the 
sharer,  the  controller  of  my  destiny,  and  since  it  likes  thee 
better,  be  the  plaything  arid  the  solace  of  my  lighter  hours. 
You  are  at  this  moment  irrevocably  within  my  power.  I  accept 
not  your  decision  now,  but  accord  you  six  hours  of  deliberation. 
Escape  is  impossible,  and  I  leave  you  to  deliberate  at  your 
leisure." 

Uttering  these  concluding  words  in  a  gentler  tone,  the  knight 
subduing  his  emotion  by  a  powerful  effort,  arose,  saluted  Esther 
respectfully,  and  then  left  the  apartment.  His  prisoner  heard  him 
fasten  the  door  securely  behind  him,  and  then,  exhausted  with 
the  agitating  events  and  emotions  of  the  last  few  hours,  she 
sank  back  almost  insensible. 

How  long  she  remained  in  this  condition  she  could  not  tell. 
A  keen  sensation  of  her  fearful  position  suddenly  aroused  her 
from  her  trance.  She  found  herself  still  alone,  and  collecting 
all  her  strength,  she  moved  rapidly  about  the  apartment,  exam 
ining  the  doors  and  windows,  to  see  if  there  were  no  possibility 
of  escape.  Alas  !  every  thing  had  been  too  securely  fastened,  and 
the  efforts  of  a  weak,  solitary  woman,  were  utterly  hopeless. 
The  house  where  she  was  a  prisoner,  and  which  was  no  other 
than  the  deserted  palace  of  Merry-Mount,  was  surrounded,  as 
she  saw,  by  an  expanse  of  hill  and  dale  in  one  direction,  by  the 
boundless  forest  in  another,  and  by  the  sea  upon  the  third.  But 
although  she  saw  no  means  of  making  her  way  homeward, 
utterly  ignorant  as  she  was  of  the  place  of  her  imprisonment, 
yet  a  death  in  the  forest  would  have  been  welcomed  with  rapture 
in  preference  to  the  doom  which  seemed  impending  over  her. 

But  she  at  last  felt  convinced  that  escape  from  the  room  where 
she  was  a  prisoner,  was  utterly  hopeless.  Exhausted  and  de- 
18* 


210  MERRY-MOUNT. 


spairing,  she  again  fell  into  a  half  insensible  state.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  her  reason  was  slowly  yielding  to  the  fearful  excitement 
of  that  day,  and  an  irresistible  and  benumbing  lethargy  seemed 
taking  possession  of  her  senses. 

In  this  apathetic  and  bewildered  state  she  remained  for  hours. 
She  was  at  last  again  aroused  to  a  consciousness  of  her  situa 
tion  by  a  movement  upon  the  outside  of  the  door.  In  another 
moment,  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner  stood  again  in  her  presence. 

She  shuddered  convulsively  as  he  approached,  but  had  no 
strength  to  utter  a  syllable,  when  he  inquired  in  the  most  cour 
teous  and  honied  accents,  if  she  were  not  inclined  at  last  to 
relent  in  her  determination.  Gardiner,  vexed  at  her  silence, 
paced  up  and  down  the  room,  his  brain  whirling  with  a  thousand 
conflicting  passions,  but  ever  and  anon  paused  in  his  disturbed 
and  impetuous  career,  to  satiate  his  eyes  with  a  long,  ardent 
gaze  at  his  victim's  beauty. 

Suddenly  he  threw  himself  with  apparent  frenzy  at  her 
feet. 

"  Why  will  you  compel  to  crime,"  he  exclaimed  in  passionate 
accents,  "one  who  would  willingly  live  your  slave,  forever? 
Maddened  by  your  beauty  beyond  control  of  every  law,  divine 
or  human,  even  thus  abjectly  do  I  implore  you  to  recall  your 
fatal  decision." 

Tears  of  wild  passion  flowed  like  burning  lava  down  the 
knight's  dusky  cheek,  he  wrung  his  hands  in  frantic  supplica 
tion,  he  kissed  her  feet,  her  garments,  he  raised  his  eyes  towards 
her  face,  as  if  he  lay  in  devout  prostration  before  an  enshrined 
divinity. 

"  Not  to  me,  kneel  not  to  me,"  murmured  Esther  faintly, 
finding  a  voice  at  last,  "  not  to  me,  but  to  thy  God.  Pray  to  the 
Omnipotent,  to  crush  in  his  mercy,  the  demon  to  whom  thou 
hast  devoted  thyself,  soul  and  body." 

An  indescribable  sneer  succeeded  the  softer  expression  upon 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


Gardiner's  swarthy  features.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  extended 
his  arms  towards  Esther.  At  that  instant  a  shrill  and  peculiar 
whistle  was  heard  without. 

"  Confusion  !  "  muttered  the  knight,  springing  to  the  door. 
"  What  means  Skettwarroes  by  this  sudden  signal  ?  " 

Thrusting  his  pistols  hastily  into  his  belt,  and  drawing  his 
rapier,  he  threw  open  the  door,  and  advanced  cautiously  a  few 
steps  outside,  Quick  as  light  did  Esther,  recovering  all  her 
energy,  follow  his  footsteps  through  the  doorway  before  he  had 
time  in  his  surprise  to  draw  the  bolts.  She  was  ready  to  brave 
every  unknown  danger,  rather  than  remain  an  instant  longer  in 
the  hated  presence  of  her  persecutor.  Gardiner  had  already 
strained  his  eyes  in  every  direction,  but  had  seen  no  trace  of 
the  suspected  enemy.  The  shadows  of  a  winter's  afternoon, 
however,  had  already  gathered  over  the  boundless  forest,  by  which 
the  house  was  inclosed  on  three  sides,  so  that  it  was  difficult 
precisely  to  ascertain  from  whence  the  danger  was  to  be  anti 
cipated. 

lie  had  answered  the  -signal  of  the  faithful  Skettwarroes,  who 

&  ' 

occupied  the  look-out  upon  the  watch  tower,  and  with  whom  he 
exchanged  a  few  unintelligible  words,  when  suddenly  he  ob 
served  that  Esther  had  already  reached  and  unfastened  the  small 
door  which  opened  through  the  palisade.  He  sprang  forward 
like  lightning,  dashed  through  the  gate  in  her  pursuit,  and  seized 
her  in  his  arms  just  as  she  was  on  the  point  of  plunging  into 
the  forest. 

"  By  your  leave,  lady  mine,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  relinquish 
my  prize  so  readily,  though  'twas  a  pretty  sortie,  I  confess." 

Esther  screamed  and  struggled  with  all  her  spirit  and  strength. 
The  hope  of  escape,  which  had  been  so  nearly  accomplished, 
yielding  thus  suddenly  to  despair,  seemed  to  produce  a  frenzy 
in  her  soul,  and  to  endow  her  frame  for  an  instant  with  preter 
natural  strength. 


212  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Exhaust  thyself  not,"  said  the  knight,  "  with  these  idle 
struggles.  Indeed,  thou  must  back  to  thy  cage  again,  my  pretty 
bird  of  paradise.  Nay,  nay,  be  wise,  there  is  none  to  help 
thee,  beautiful  Esther." 

"'Tis  false,  cowardly  ruffian!  "  suddenly  exclaimed  a  voice, 
hoarse  with  passion,  but  whose  well  known  accents  fell  like 
music  upon  Esther's  ear.  At  the  same  time  an  elastic  form 
bounded  like  a  tiger  from  the  thicket,  seized  Gardiner  by  the 
throat,  and  hurled  him  to  the  ground.  Esther  uttered  a  feeble 
exclamation,  and  then  sank  insensible  into  the  arms  of  Henry 
Maudsley. 

The  knight,  although  taken  by  surprise,  was  upon  his  feet 
again  in  an  instant.  He  strode  forward  to  punish  the  intruder, 
who,  occupied  at  that  instant  with  the  fainting  Esther,  seemed 
hardly  capable  of  defending  himself.  Suddenly,  upon  perceiving 
the  features  of  the  supposed  stranger,  the  knight  paused,  with 
his  sword  uplifted  in  his  hand,  and  stood  motionless  as  if 
changed  to  stone,  with  features  grown  suddenly  rigid  in  their 
passionate  convulsions,  and  with  eyes  gleaming  with  strange  and 
unnatural  fire. 

In  the  mean  time,  while  Maudsley  stood,  with  the  senseless 
form  of  Esther  in  his  arms,  frantically  imploring  her  to  look  up 
for  a  single  moment,  and  while  the  knight  stood  spell-bound  and 
immovable  before  him,  several  figures  emerged  from  the  forest, 
and  silently  ascended  the  slightly  elevated,  but  upon  one  side, 
somewhat  precipitous  platform  or  ledge,  upon  which  the  group 
was  accidentally  stationed. 

Before  the  knight  could  recover  his  self-possession,  he  saw 
himself  surrounded  by  six  or  seven  well  armed  soldiers,  who  had 
been  sent  by  the  magistrates  to  arrest  him. 

They  stood  in  a  circle  around  him,  looking  towards  Mauds- 
ley  for  further  orders.  An  unarmed  person  in  Puritan  hat 
and  cloak,  who  had  accompanied  the  party  apparently  in  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  213 


character  of  guide,  seemed  desirous  of  concealing  himself  from 
observation. 

Gardiner  at  last  seemed  to  awake  from  his  trance,  and  to  look 
around  upon  the  grim  figures,  who,  arrayed  in  steel  cap  and 
corslet,  and  armed  with  matchlock  and  rapier,  had  gathered 
in  such  formidable  numbers  about  him,  with  an  expression  of 
contempt. 

"  Little  do  I  regard  the  malice  of  these  crop-eared  blood 
hounds,"  he  muttered,  grasping  his  rapier  convulsively  in  his 
hand  ;  "  the  living  move  me  not,  no,  nor  the  dead  !  " 

"  No  !  "  continued  he  in  a  hollow  voice,  with  features  expres 
sive  of  a  profound  horror,  but  with  an  attitude  of  desperate 
determination  —  "no,  though  the  grave  gives  up  its  dead; 
though  hell  itself  hurl  back  its  victims  to  affright  me,  even  then 
and  thus  do  I  defy  thee,  Harry  Maudsley  !" 

The  knight  would  have  sprung  forward,  but  at  a  nod  of 
Maudsley,  three  men-at-arms  laid  hold  of  Gardiner,  who  sub 
mitted  patiently  to  be  held  for  a  moment,  while  Maudsley 
spoke. 

"Be  assured,"  said  he,  "that  'tis  no  preternatural  apparition 
who  addresses  you,  but  a  man  in  flesh  and  blood,  as  real  as  your 
own.  There  will  be  ample  leisure  hereafter  to  explain  why  and 
how  my  recovery  from  the  wound  received  at  your  hands  was 
kept  a  secret  from  you  " 

"  Verily,  Sir  Christopher,"  cried  a  shrill  voice  suddenly  inter 
rupting  Maudsley  at  this  point,  "  verily,  I  made  a  grave  as  you 
desired  upon  the  solitary  beach,  but  the  tenant,  look  you,  was 
wanting,  so  I  even  buried  the  secret  within  it,  and  closed  my 
mouth  and  the  grave  at  the  same  moment." 

"Perfidious  liar!"  exclaimed  the  knight,  starting  as  if  a 
serpent  had  stung  him,  and  glaring  furiously  at  the  malicious 
mocking  countenance  of  Peter  Cakebread,  who  had  hitherto 
eluded  his  observation. 


214  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"Nay,  nay,  most  worthy  chevalier,"  continued  the  mischiev 
ous  Cakebread,  with  a  leer  and  a  chuckle,  "  thou  didst  procure 
me  once  an  ignominious  and  most  painful  chastisement.  I  have 
made  thee  wait  a  long  time  for  payment,  but  I  was  even  deter 
mined  to  leave  no  stone  unturned,  to  return  the  obligation  in 
one  way  or  another.  Vengeance  is  mine,  and  I  will  repay,  saith 
the  Lord  !  a  text  which  I  learned  from  my  new  masters,  although 
I  do  not  yet  correctly  apply  my  learning,  perhaps." 

"If then,"  cried  Gardiner,  turning  furiously  towards  Mauds- 
ley,  "  you  have,  in  truth,  escaped  the  death  to  which  I  supposed 
you  long  since  a  victim,  you  can  now,  at  least,  have  neither  right 
nor  inclination  to  defer  an  instant  longer,  the  conclusion  of  our 
quarrel,  which,  if  it  had  not  been  deadly  before,  would  have 
been  aggravated  by  to-day's  events.  Order  these  armed  attend 
ants  of  yours  to  retire." 

"  No,  Sir  Knight,"  said  Maudsley,  who  had  gently  deposited 
upon  the  ground,  and  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  the  partially  recov 
ered  form  of  Esther,  and  who  had  now  advanced  close  towards 
his  former  antagonist  — "  No,  even  if  a  mighty  change,  such  as 
you  could  neither  understand  nor  dream  of,  had  not  changed  the 
whole  complexion  of  my  life,  and  made  me  more  cautious,  at 
least,  of  shedding  blood  in  private  quarrel,  still  would  I  scorn  to 
lift  my  sword  against  such  a  thing  as  you  are  proved  to  be." 

"  Insolent  reptile  !  "  exclaimed  Gardiner,  fiercely. 

"All  taunts  are  idle,"  continued  Maudsley.  "I  met  you 
once  as  a  knightly  gentleman,  in  honorable  combat.  I  stand 
here  now  commissioned  to  arrest  you  as  a  malefactor." 

"What  means  this  insolence?"  exclaimed  the  knight,  in 
husky  tones,  and  with  a  strange  pallor  upon  his  swarthy  cheek. 

"  Your  own  guilty  soul  tells  you  my  meaning  plainly  enough," 
exclaimed  Maudsley,  yielding  at  last  to  his  long  suppressed 
rage.  "Know  then  that  I  have  not  in  vain  concealed  my  exist 
ence  from  you  ;  know  that  I  have  not  in  vain  employed  the  long, 


MERRY-MOUNT.  215 

weary,  perplexed  months  of  my  absence.  I  have  unravelled  the 
whole  web  of  your  villany,  and  have  returned  to  brand  and 
chastise  you,  as  you  deserve." 

"  The  boy  raves,"  said  Gardiner,  with  a  hollow  laugh. 

"Aye,  blaspheme  not,  struggle  not,  deny  thyself  not,"  con 
tinued  Maudsley.  As  surely  as  thou  knowest  me  to  be  Henry 
Maudsley,  so  surely  do  I  know  thee  to  be  Sir  Fulk  de  Gorges, 
expelled  and  branded  brother  of  the  knights  Hospitaller  of  St. 
John  of  Malta,  husband  of  Lady  Clara  Hoveden,  husband  of 
Edith  Maudsley,  and  murderer  of  her  father  and  herself.  Are 
you  answered  now  ?  " 

The  knight's  dark  eye  seemed  to  emit  sparks  of  fire  as  he 
glared  at  Maudsley,  but  he  was  still  silent. 

"Aye,  aye,"  cried  the  shrill  voice  of  Cakebread,  "  and  know, 
moreover,  that  all  your  papers  are  at  this  moment  in  the  hands 
of  the  magistrates.  A  divine  hand  hath  directed  my  humble 
researches,  and  the  magic  rod  hath  revealed  to  me  the  golden 
treasures  of  Shawmut.  The  officers  have  paid  a  visit,  under  my 
guidance,  to  your  hermitage  upon  the  bay.  They  have  secured 
the  person  of  the  fair  Magdalen  Groves,  commonly  called  your 
cousin,  Master  Jaspar,  and  have  burned  your  house  to  the 
ground.  All  your  plotting  with  the  savages,  particularly  your 
foul  connection  with  the  great  conspiracy  revealed  this  summer 
by  Sagamore  John,  and  of  which  you  are  now  known  to  be  the 
instigator,  all,  all  is  discovered.  Aha,  aha,  Sir  Knight!  whose 
back  will  catch  the  bastinado  now?  tell  me  that,  tell  me 
that." 

The  malicious  creature,  who  at  that  moment  looked  like  a 
very  imp  of  hell,  uttered  a  mocking  laugh  as  he  concluded, 
which,  more  than  all  which  had  been  said,  seemed  to  madden 
the  knight's  brain  to  frenzy,  and  to  endow  him  with  a  giant's 
strength.  His  game  was  up,  his  plots  baffled,  his  person  revealed, 
his  crimes  divulged,  the  avenger  panting  for  his  prey.  There  was 


216  MERRY-MOUNT. 


no  safety  but  in  flight.  Exerting  his  great  muscular  agility,  he 
threw  off  his  three  captors  by  a  sudden  and  dexterous  movement, 
discharged  a  pistol  unsuccessfully  at  Maudsley,  stretched  the 
grinning  Cakebread,  desperately  wounded,  at  his  feet,  with  the 
other,  and  then,  with  the  suppleness  of  a  tiger,  threw  himself 
with  one  prodigious  bound  over  the  precipitous  rock  upon  which 
they  stood,  and  plunged  into  the  almost  impenetrable  thickets 
below. 

By  this  movement,  sudden,  bewildering,  apparently  impossi 
ble,  and  which  had  hardly  occupied  a  second,  Maudsley,  to  his 
astonishment  and  rage,  beheld  the  felon,  whom  he  had  toiled  so 
long  to  convict  and  to  apprehend,  again  escape  him.  Half  a 
dozen  shots  were  fired  in  quick  succession,  but  evidently  in 
vain,  and  then  the  whole  party,  excepting  Maudsley,  dashed  off 
in  hot  pursuit. 

However  ardently  he  desired  the  capture  of  the  knight, 
a  legion  of  demons  at  that  moment  could  not  have  moved  him 
from  the  rock.  The  beautiful  Esther,  who  had  remained  as 
it  were  in  a  kind  of  bewildered  trance,  suddenly  revived,  as 
he  hung  despairingly  over  her.  Their  eyes  met. 

"  Dearest,  dearest  Maudsley,  my  preserver,  my  saviour  !  "  she 
murmured,  extending  her  arms  gently  towards  him.  .  Maudsley 
could  not  speak,  but  their  lips  clung  to  each  other  in  a  first  and 
long  embrace. 

There  sat  the  lovers,  upon  that  rock  in  the  wilderness,  and 
for  an  instant  they  forgot  every  thing  but  their  deep  love,  and 
their  boundless  joy  at  this  meeting. 

It  was  with  a  joyful  although  superstitious  feeling,  that 
Maudsley  suddenly  threw  the  fated  chain  around  Esther's  neck, 
which  he  had  taken  from  the  ground,  where  it  had  fallen  during 
her  last  struggle  writh  Gardiner  near  the  palisade.  He  reminded 
her  that  he  had  sworn  to  return  from  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth,  should  that  talisman  inform  him  that  danger  threatened 


MERRY-MOUNT.  217 


her,  and  he  now  urged  her  to  accept  it  as  a  pledge  that 
their  hearts  were  no  longer  entangled  in  mysteries,  but  at 
last  were  united.  They  could  have  remained  for  hours 
together  upon  that  lonely  spot,  but  their  interview  was  inter 
rupted  after  but  a  few  moments'  duration.  Half  the  party,  who 
had  been  in  pursuit  of  Gardiner,  returned  breathless  and  unsuc 
cessful.  It  had  been  agreed  that  the  others  should  continue  the 
search  all  night.  The  adventurer,  however,  possessed  such  an 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  country  in  that  neighborhood, 
beside  being  upon  such  intimate  terms  with  many  of  the 
wandering  savages,  that  it  seemed  probable  the  pursuit  would 
be  a  protracted  one,  although  Maudsley  convinced  Esther 
that  his  eventual  apprehension  must  be  certain.  He  bitterly 
regretted  his  want  of  adroitness  in  thus  allowing  the  object, 
for  which  he  had  spent  so  many  weary  months  of  labor,  to 
slip  from  his  grasp,  when  he  had  already  clutched  it;  but  he 
swore  to  rest  neither  day  nor  night,  till  the  malefactor  was 
apprehended  and  brought  to  justice. 

In  the  mean  time,  those  of  the  party  who  had  returned  to 
Merry-Mount,  prepared  to  execute  that  part  of  the  order  of  the 
court  in  relation  to  Thomas  Morton,  which  had  hitherto 
remained  unfulfilled.  The  magistrates,  as  will  be  recollected, 
had  decreed  that  the  luckless  Lord  of  Merry-Mount  should  be 
set  in  the  stocks,  that  he  should  be  afterwards  imprisoned  until 
sent  to  England,  that  his  property  should  be  confiscated,  and 
his  house  be  burned  to  the  ground,  "  in  order  that  the  habitation 
of  the  wicked  should  no  more  be  seen  in  Israel."  Morton  was 
now  in  prison,  hourly  awaiting  his  transportation  to  England, 
and  every  other  part  of  the  sentence  had  been  executed,  except 
ing  the  ordained  destruction  of  the  Merry-Mount  palace.  This 
had,  for  a  variety  of  reasons,  been  deferred,  and  the  party  who 
were  that  day  charged,  by  the  magistrates,  with  the  apprehension 

VOL.  n.  19 


218  MERRY-MOUNT. 


of  Gardiner,  had  likewise  received  orders  to  proceed  afterwards 
to  Morton's  domain,  and  to  destroy  his  house. 

They  had  already  burned  Gardiner's  house  to  the  ground, 
after  having  searched  there  unsuccessfully  for  its  tenant,  before 
proceeding  to  Merry-Mount.  As  has  already  been  intimated, 
they  had  there  captured  the  unfortunate  Jaspar,  and  had,  more 
over,  taken  possession  of  a  large  collection  of  papers,  including, 
as  it  afterwards  appeared,  a  voluminous  correspondence  between 
the  knight  and  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges,  in  which  their  various 
intrigues  and  machinations  were  set  forth,  even  to  the  minutest 
details. 

The  party  had  then  proceeded  to  Merry-Mount,  where  their 
adventures  with  Sir  Christopher  have  been  already  narrated. 

By  Maudsley's  orders,  they  now  proceeded  to  set  fire  to  the 
palace,  as  well  as  to  all  the  log  huts  and  hovels  which  were 
scattered  about  Morton's  domain.  The  buildings  had  previously 
been  ransacked,  by  order  of  the  magistrates,  and  every  thing  of 
importance  removed.  After  the  flames  had  fairly  enveloped  all 
the  buildings,  Maudsley  carefully  conveyed  Esther  to  the 
pinnace,  which  was  moored  near  the  shore,  and  accompanied 
by  the  men-at-arms,  embarked  for  the  village  of  Boston.  A 
gentle  breeze  was  blowing,  and  the  little  vessel  danced  swiftly 
along  the  waves.  Esther  and  Maudsley  sat  gazing  at  the 
burning  palace,  which,  built  of  light  and  inflammable  materials, 
was  already  a  sheet  of  fire,  and  presented  the  appearance  of  an 
extensive  conflagration.  The  twilight  was  already  approaching, 
the  air  was  chill  and  mirky,  the  red  flames  glared  wildly  and 
fitfully  athwart  the  lowering  heavens,  and  were  reflected  with 
sullen  radiance  from  the  darkening  waves.  Suddenly,  as  they 
turned  for  a  moment  in  another  direction,  they  saw  the  large 
hull  of  an  outward  bound  ship,  which  was  passing  very  near 
them.  A  solitary  person,  his  figure  darkly  painted  against  the 


MERRY-MOUNT.  219 

twilight,  stood  upon  the  quarter-deck,  and  seemed  to  be  gazing 
sadly  and  earnestly  at  the  distant  flames.  The  vessel  was  the 
ship  Whale,  just  starting  upon  her  wintry  voyage  to  England  — 
the  solitary  spectator  of  the  conflagration  was  the  captive  Lord 
of  Merry-Mount. 


220  MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE    HERMIT    IN    THE    ASSEMBLY. 

THE  magistrates  were  assembled,  next  day,  in  the  rude  town- 
hall.  William  Blaxton,  the  hermit  of  Shawmut,  had  crossed 
the  craggy  eminence  which  rose  between  his  still  sequestered 
retreat  and  the  lowly  village  of  Boston,  in  order  to  hold  an  in 
terview,  at  their  request,  with  the  government  of  the  colony. 
His  connection  with  the  Gorges  patent  had  ever  been  rather 
nominal  and  accidental  than  real,  and  since  the  arrival  of  the 
new  settlers,  and  the  summary  measures  which  had  been  taken  in 
regard  to  Morton,  Walford,  Gardiner  in  New  England,  and 
Oldham  at  home,  he  had  dismissed  from  his  thoughts  the  sub 
ject  concerning  which  he  had  been  used  occasionally  to  hear 
discussions  from  the  mouths  of  Gardiner  and  Morton.  He  had 
certainly  never  much  interested  himself  in  the  merits  of  the  rival 
claimants  to  the  dominion  of  Massachusetts.  He  considered 
himself  as  a  pilgrim  in  a  wilderness,  a  hermit  in  a  desert,  and 
he  had  a  whimsical  but  profound  contempt  for  every  species  of 
human  authority.  He  had  allowed  himself  to  be  whirled  by  an 
eddy  entirely  aside  from  the  rushing  current  of  human  affairs, 
and  he  had  long  since  devoted  his  existence  to  solitude  and 
nature.  Had  he  foreseen  that  the  band  of  emigrants  who,  in 
small  companies  and  at  different  intervals,  had  been  arriving 
during  the  last  two  or  three  years,  were  so  soon  to  lay  the  foun 
dation  of  a  permanent  empire,  and  so  soon  to  scare  the  spirit  of 
sylvan  solitude  from  the  lovely  peninsula  where  he  had  estab 
lished  his  home,  it  is  probable  that  he  might  have  attempted 
some  means  of  counteracting  their  plans  by  any  fair  and  amicable 


MERRY-MOUNT.  031 

arrangement  that  was  possible.  He  considered  himself  the 
sole  proprietor  of  Shawmut,  or,  as  it  was  now  called,  Boston,  by 
right  of  occupation.  He  was  the  first  Englishman  who  had  ever 
slept  upon  the  peninsula,  and  he  had  dwelt  there  in  undisturbed 
dominion  during  five  or  six  years.  His  gentle  nature,  however, 
having  been  touched  by  the  sufferings  of  the  colonists  at 
Charlestown,  he  had  voluntarily  gone  over  to  the  governor  and 
expressly  invited  them  to  his  peninsula,  assuring  them  of  the 
sufficiency  at  least  of  fair  water-springs,  which  were  so  much 
wanting  at  Mishawum.  Although  the  governor  of  the  colony 
considered  that  the  dominion  and  property  of  the  soil  of  Shaw 
mut  belonged  unquestionably  to  themselves,  yet  the  just  and 
magnanimous  mind  of  Winthrop  could  not  brook  the  thought  of 
any  injustice  towards  the  hermit,  although  the  question  of  sum 
marily  ousting  him  from  his  adverse  possession  was  fiercely 
contended  for  by  the  more  intolerant  of  the  brethren.  The 
town  had  been,  however,  commenced,  and  the  lots  were  soon  to 
be  apportioned  ;  but  it  was  determined  by  the  governor  that  an 
ample  portion  of  the  territory  should  be  assigned  to  Blaxton, 
which,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  now  that  a  permanent  settle 
ment  had  been  made,  would  be  of  more  value  than  the  whole 
peninsula,  had  it  remained  a  wilderness.  It  was  not  probable, 
however,  that  considerations  like  these  would  have  any  great 
weight  with  the  whimsical  hermit.  He  already  feared  that  his 
dearly  loved  solitude  was  lost  to  him  forever,  should  he  remain 
at  Shawmut;  but  he  shrank  at  present  from  the  thought  of 
relinquishing  a  spot  where  he  had  dwelt  so  long. 

It  was  for  the  purpose  of  conferring  with  the  magistrates  upon 
matters  of  this  kind,  that  he  had  made  his  appearance  in  the 
town-hall  that  morning.  The  conference  had  been  long  and  de 
sultory,  for  the  character  of  Blaxton  was  singularly  uncongenial 
to  that  of  the  majority  of  the  magistrates,  and  they  had  found 
not  a  little  difficulty  in  understanding  each  other. 
19* 


222  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"It  is  therefore  understood,"  said  Winthrop,  with  whom  the 
hermit  seemed  to  feel  the  most  sympathy,  "  it  is  understood  that 
fifty  acres  be  set  apart  for  your  own  use,  Master  Blaxton,  includ 
ing  the  tract  more  particularly  occupied  by  your  domicile." 

"Acres,  acres,"  muttered  Blaxton,  dreamily,  "the  thought  of 
admeasurements,  and  fences,  and  allotments,  confoundeth  me. 
I  had  forgotten  that  men  carved  up  and  subdivided  in  petty  por 
tions  the  green  and  beautiful  earth.  I  have  sojourned  so  long  in 
the  boundless  wilderness,  where  my  territory  was  wide  as  the 
continent,  as  unfettered  as  my  thoughts,  that  I  am  become  a 
child,  and  can  hardly  understand  the  ways  of  men." 

"  But  we  mean  nothing  but  brotherly  dealing,"  said  Winthrop, 
"  fair  dealing  and  strict  justice." 

"I  never  dreamed,"  said  Blaxton,  in  a  pathetic  tone,  "  that 
my  boundless  territory  would  be  contracted.  I  looked  to  have 
dwelt  with  my  orchards,  and  my  books,  and  my  young  fawn,  and 
my  bull,  in  undisturbed  and  harmless  solitude.  This  new  world, 
they  tell  me,  is  very  wide.  Was  there  not  room  enough  for  ye 
all  ?  Could  ye  not  leave  the  hermit  in  his  corner?" 

"  Your  fifty  acre  lot,"  said  Winthrop,  practically  but  kindly, 
"  will  soon  be  of  more  account  and  value  than  twenty  wilderness 
promontories  like  this " 

"What  tell  ye  me  of  value?"  interrupted  the  hermit,  pet 
tishly.  "  I  tell  ye  I  am  like  a  child  in  affairs  of  this  world.  I 
have  dwelt  so  long  in  the  wilderness,  that  the  voices  of  many 
men  sound  strangely  to  me.  I  love  my  kind  I  believe,  and  would 
serve  them  if  I  could,  but  look  you,  I  cannot  live  with  them. 
My  soul  lacks  air,  and  cannot  brook  confinement.  I  am  a 
peaceable  man,  and  have  never  injured  living  thing,  and  yet  my 
spirit  rebels  at  all  law,  and  cannot  bear  the  dictates  of  any 
power  but  those  of  the  Most  High." 

"  Laws,  my  reverend  friend,"  remonstrated  Winthrop,  "  are 
surely  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  society.  Shall  wolves 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


and  lambs,  lions  and  kids,  dwell  together,  and  yet  the  fiercer 
animals  not  be  restrained?" 

"  I  cannot  abide  with  ye,  I  fear,"  said  Blaxton,  following,  as 
was  his  wont,  his  own  train  of  thought,  and  heeding  little  the 
words  which  were  addressed  to  him  ;  "  I  cannot  obey  the  laws  of 
man's  making.  'T  is  for  this  I  left  my  fathers'  graves,  and  buried 
myself  in  the  desert.  I  am  not  of  your  religion  neither." 

"  We  shall  soon  bring  thee  round,"  interrupted  Dudley,  per 
emptorily  ;  "  we  will  have  no  spies  in  the  company,  no  recusants, 
no  blasphemers  of  our  church.  We  have  not  come  hither  to  find 
surplices  and  copes  in  the  wilderness,  nor  to  hear  the  mass- 
book  chanted  in  the  forest." 

"Gently,  brother  Dudley,"  interposed  Winthrop,  "our  rev 
erend,  learned,  and  contemplative  friend  hath  acted  towards  us 
in  a  most  friendly  and  Christian  spirit ;  let  us  have  no  conten 
tions  upon  religious  matters  yet." 

"  Men  are  law-makers  and  tyrants  by  nature,"  continued  the 
hermit,  "  even  as  tigers  are  carnivorous.  When  the  lion  dan- 
dleth  the  kid,  shall  I  hope  to  repose  calmly  in  the  lap  of  civil 
authority.  No,  my  masters,"  said  he,  facing  the  magistrates  in 
an  attitude  of  simple  dignity,  and  slightly  elevating  his  voice, 
"  no,  my  masters,  I  came  from  England  because  I  could  not  obey 
the  Lord  bishops;  but  I  fear  I  cannot  dwell  with  you,  for  I 
can  never  obey  the  Lord  brethren." 

Dudley  frowned  as  the  eccentric  solitary  made  this  last  obser 
vation,  and  was  upon  the  point  of  uttering  some  harsh  rejoinder, 
when  the  door  opened,  and  the  sergeant  announced  that  the 
prisoner,  whose  presence  their  worships  had  desired,  was  now 
in  attendance. 

"  Let  her  be  brought  before  the  court,"  said  Winthrop;  and 
a  female  was  accordingly  introduced,  wearing  a  thick  veil,  and 
wrapped  in  a  dark  mantle,  which  quite  concealed  her  form. 
Thus  attired,  she  stood  in  front  of  the  magistrates'  t.ible. 


224  MERRY-MOUNT. 


In  the  mean  time  a  number  of  colonists,  directed  thither 
partly  by  curiosity,  partly  by  other  motives,  had  found  their 
way  into  the  hall.  Among  the  rest  were  Maudsley  and  the 
Ludlows,  who  gazed  upon  the  proceedings  with  great  earnest 
ness. 

"The  prisoner  will  declare  her  name,"  said  the  imperious 
voice  of  Dudley. 

An  indistinct  murmur  was  heard,  which  failed  to  reach  the 
ears  of  the  magistrates. 

"  The  prisoner  will  remove  her  veil,"  said  Dudley. 

The  order  was  complied  with,  and  the  woman  throwing 
aside  her  veil,  revealed  a  face  of  extraordinary  loveliness. 

It  was  a  strange,  almost  a  patriarchal  scene.  That  rude 
apartment  thronged  with  its  earnest,  darkly-habited  spectators, 
the  stern,  but  expressive  heads  of  the  magistrates,  and  in  the 
midst  of  all,  and  gazed  upon  with  breathless  curiosity  by  all,  the 
shrinking  figure  of  that  young,  beautiful,  desolate  woman. 

Blaxton,  who  had  been  upon  the  point  of  retiring,  as  soon  as 
his  conference  with  the  magistrates  was  concluded,  had  been 
accidentally  detained  for  a  few  moments  within  the  hall.  As 
the  prisoner  lifted  up  her  veil,  his  wandering  eyes  happened  to 
be  turned  in  that  direction.  As  her  countenance  met  his  view 
he  was  observed  to  turn  pale  as  ashes.  Incapable  for  the 
moment  of  speech  or  motion,  he  stood  for  a  brief  interval  trans 
fixed  and  horror-struck,  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  suddenly 
descended  from  heaven.  At  last  he  aroused  himself,  and  feeling 
that  a  solution  of  many  mysteries  which  had  perplexed  him,  was 
near  at  hand,  be  glided  close  to  the  prisoner,  and  gazed  long 
and  wistfully  upon  her. 

"  Art  thou  not  Magdalen  Groves,  of  Boirdly  ? "  said  he  at  last. 

"  I  am,"  said  the  woman,  gently  but  firmly,  answering  the 
gaze  of  Blaxton  with  an  earnest  and  imploring  look. 

"  They  told  me  thou  wert  dead,"  said  the  solitary. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  225 


"  Thou  wert  deceived,  basely,  treacherously  deceived,"  an 
swered  Magdalen,  in  a  low  and  trembling  voice. 

"And  hadst  thou  part  and  lot  in  the  deceit?"  asked  the 
hermit. 

There  was  no  reply.  The  woman  sighed  heavily,  but  was 
silent. 

"  I  am  answered,"  said  the  hermit,  "  the  mystery  is  solved. 
And  so  without  saying  a  single  word  further,  he  took  his  staff 
and  went  forth  to  his  hermitage  again. 

The  examination  of  the  prisoner  now  proceeded.  A  variety 
of  interrogatories  were  addressed  to  her,  but  her  answers  were 
brief  and  unsatisfactory.  She  knew  nothing,  she  said,  of  the 
present  retreat  of  Gardiner,  and  trembled  violently  at  every 
question  concerning  him  or  his  plans.  All  that  could  be  elicited 
from  her  in  answer  to  their  various  queries,  was,  that  she 
believed  the  knight  to  be  a  Catholic,  and  that  she  had  under 
stood  him  to  be  descended  from  the  family  of  Stephen  Gardiner, 
the  celebrated  Bishop  of  Winchester.  Touching  Sir  Ferdi- 
nando  Gorges,  she  knew  nothing,  and  she  had  nothing  to  com 
municate  concerning  the  intrigues  of  Thomas  Morton,  with 
whom  she  acknowledged  some  slight  acquaintance. 

The  possession  of  the  papers  which  had  been  so  recently 
delivered  to  the  magistrates,  and  which  had  been  found  in  Gar 
diner's  house,  seemed  to  throw  so  much  light  upon  the  whole 
history  of  the  Gorges  plot,  that  it  seemed  to  them  unnecessary 
to  pursue  the  examination  of  the  prisoner  further.  Her  conduct 
was  so  close  and  impenetrable,  and  she  really  seemed  to  know 
so  little  concerning  the  designs  and  the  whereabouts  of  the 
knight,  that  it  seemed  necessary  to  defer  all  further  hope  of 
entirely  unravelling  the  business,  until  the  apprehension  of  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner,  as  we  must  continue  to  call  him,  who  was 
not  yet  taken,  and  who  was  supposed  to  have  fled  to  the  savages. 

"  The  prisoner  may  be  removed,"  said  the  governor. 


226  MERRY-MOUNT. 


"  Let  her  be  kept  in  prison,  and  watched  strictly,"  said 
Dudley,  "  till  her  paramour  be  taken.  Remove  her  at  once, 
Sergeant  Underwood." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  governor,  wishing  to  deal  in  more  gentle 
fashion  with  the  prisoner,  "  there  may  be  some  virtuous  and 
well-disposed  Christian  matron  who  may  be  willing  to  take  upon 
herself  the  custody  and  the  care  of  the  prisoner,  till  such  time 
as  the  court  may  again  require  her  presence." 

There  were  a  number  of  females  present,  among  whom  were 
observed  the  two  respectable  matrons  who  had  not  long  pre 
viously  been  exhibited  with  their  heads  in  a  cage.  All,  how 
ever,  more  especially  that  worthy  pair,  tossed  their  chins  in  the 
air,  and  manifested  a  superfluous  quantity  of  indignation  at  the 
contamination  thus  suggested. 

The  sergeant  was  approaching  to  lead  the  unfortunate  pris 
oner  away,  when  Esther  advancing  from  the  corner  where  she 
had  been  watching  the  whole  proceeding  with  tearful  eyes,  said 
modestly  to  the  governor, — 

"  If  the  magistrates  permit,  I  will  readily  offer  the  shelter  of 
my  roof  to  our  unfortunate  sister.  My  brother  and  myself  will 
deal  kindly  with  her,  and  will  be  responsible  for  her  appearance 
when  the  court  desire  it." 

Magdalen  Groves,  who  had  stood  like  a  statue  of  ice  during 
the  latter  part  of  this  scene,  chilled  to  the  heart  by  the  freezing 
looks  which  met  her  upon  every  side,  at  hearing  these  few 
words  of  womanly  and  Christian  sympathy,  trembled  violently 
from  head  to  foot,  and  would  have  fallen,  had  not  Esther  received 
her  in  her  arms.  For  a  few  moments  the  unfortunate  and 
deserted  woman  seemed  overcome  by  silent  but  convulsive 
emotions. 

After  a  time,  however,  she  recovered  her  composure  by  a 
strong  and  energetic  effort,  and  then,  supported  by  Esther,  she 
silently  withdrew  from  the  hall. 


MERRY-MOUNT.  227 


CHAPTER    XIX. 
AN  ADVENTURER'S  FORTUNES. 

SIR  Ferdinando  Gorges  was  the  head  of  an  ancient  family, 
which  deduced  its  origin,  in  unbroken  masculine  descent,  from 
Fulques  de  Gorges,  a  Norman  Knight,  who  came  into  England 
under  the  banner  of  William  the  Conqueror. 

A  younger  branch  of  the  house,  swerving  from  its  allegiance 
to  the  red  rose  of  Lancaster,  had  been  ennobled  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  IV. 

More  than  a  century  afterwards,  an  intermarriage  had  taken 
place  between  the  two  principal  branches  of  the  family.  Lord 
Gorges  of  Ashford,  the  representative  of  the  barony,  and  Sir 
Ferdinando  Gorges,  the  acknowledged  head  of  the  family,  were 
cousins.  Both  were  rich,  and  botli  were  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
church  and  king.  Sir  Ferdinando  had  never  been  married; 
Lord  Gorges  of  Ashford  had  espoused,  early  in  life,  a  daughter 
of  Hugh  Gardiner,  of  Clopton,  a  Somersetshire  gentleman,  who 
was  descended  from  a  brother  of  the  celebrated  Stephen  Gar 
diner,  the  supple  and  subtle  Bishop  of  Winchester,  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  of  his  successors. 

From  this  marriage  there  had  sprung  several  children.  The 
youngest,  the  honorable  Fulk  de  Gorges,  had  been  a  wayward 
and  unmanageable  creature  almost  from  his  birth.  Rebellious 
and  yet  subtle,  scheming,  incomprehensible,  perverse,  licentious, 
deceitful,  he  had  been,  during  his  wild  boyhood,  a  constant 
source  of  anxiety  and  sorrow  to  his  parents.  At  the  age  of 
seventeen,  he  had  quitted  his  paternal  mansion  in  a  fit  of  ungov 
ernable  anger,  and  had  passed  a  few  wandering  months  upon  the 


228  MERRY-MOUNT. 

continent.  By  means  of  his  father's  powerful  influence,  he  was  at 
the  expiration  of  this  time  admitted,  at  his  own  ardent  desire,  as  a 
page  in  the  order  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  at  Malta.  Although 
the  order,  like  all  other  monastic  institutions,  had  been  deprived 
and  abolished  in  England,  under  Henry  VIII.,  yet  Englishmen  of 
rank  were  still  admitted  into  the  fraternity,  and  the  young  de 
Gorges,  finding  no  difficulty  in  proving  the  necessary  four  gen 
erations  of  nobility,  was  entered  in  the  commandery  of  Toulon, 
of  course  in  the  language  of  England. 

His  bravery,  his  remarkable  talents,  his  great  skill  in  the  pro 
fession  of  arms,  whether  exercised  upon  sea  or  shore,  soon  won 
him  an  exalted  place  among  the  Hospitallers.  The  impetuosity 
of  his  temper,  the  mischievous  restlessness  of  his  brain,  and  the 
licentiousness  of  his  manners,  remarkable  even  in  an  order 
already  signalized  in  its  decay  by  extraordinary  depravity,  had, 
however,  acquired  for  him  almost  as  much  distinction  among  his 
brethren,  as  had  his  nobler  qualities. 

In  many  a  bloody  fight  with  the  pirates  of  Dalmatia,  the  mer 
cenaries  of  Austria,  or  the  squadrons  of  the  Sultan,  he  had  led 
the  war  galleys  of  his  order  to  victory.  Disappointed,  however, 
in  his  election  to  the  post  of  grand  master,  for  which  he  had 
skilfully  and  almost'  successfully  intrigued,  he  had  abandoned 
himself  to  an  uncontrollable  rage ;  had  torn  the  cross  from  his 
shoulder,  trampled  it  under  his  feet,  insulted  his  brethren,  and 
made  his  escape  by  a  stroke  of  unparalleled  and  fortunate  auda 
city,  before  the  punishment  for  his  unpardonable  conduct  could 
be  inflicted  upon  him. 

After  this  epoch  he  appears  to  have  dwelt  for  a  long  time 
in  Venice.  It  is,  however,  quite  impossible,  and  would  be, 
perhaps,  irrelevant  to  attempt  even  a  hurried  sketch  of  his 
adventurous  life.  His  memoirs,  could  they  have  been  given 
to  the  world,  would  have  formed  a  checkered,  mysterious, 
and  romantic  piece  of  biography.  For  the  sake  of  indicat- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  229 


ing  only  the  manner  in  which  his  fortunes  had  been  connected 
with  those  of  several  personages  who  have  figured  in  our  pages, 
we  will  but  briefly  glance  at  a  few  points  in  his  career.  lie  had 
dwelt  long  in  Venice.  As  already  hinted  at  in  some  of  the 
earlier  chapters  of  this  work,  he  had  been  the  chief  instrument 
of  the  celebrated  mock  conspiracy  against  the  republic,  and  real 
plot  against  Naples,  in  which  the  Duke  d'Ossuna  had  reposed 
implicit  confidence  in  the  crafty  Englishman  alone.  As  a  bare 
footed  monk,  moving  unsuspected  from  city  to  city,  he  had 
passed  to  and  fro  between  Naples  and  Venice,  and  his  identity 
with  the  brilliant  and  gallant  Cavaliere  di  San  Giorgio,  by  which 
name  he  had  been  known  as  a  celebrated  commander  of  picked 
condottieri  in  the  service  of  the  republic,  had  never  been  sus 
pected.  Although  the  conspiracy  had  proved  unsuccessful,  the 
chevalier  had  found  no  reason  to  regret  his  connection  with  the 
Duke  d'Ossuna,  who  was  munificent  in  his  gratitude,  and  who 
remained  always  his  most  useful  and  powerful  friend.  He  had 
subsequently  to  these  events,  while  employed  upon  a  secret  and 
confidential  mission  from  the  republic  to  the  court  of  RoT.e, 
become  acquainted  with  an  English  family  of  rank  then  residing 
in  Italy.  Lady  Clara  Hoveden  fell  desperately  in  love  with 
the  accomplished  Cavaliere  di  San  Giorgio,  who  accordingly 
bestowed  upon  her  his  monkish  hand  in  marriage.  Perhaps  he 
might  have  obtained  a  dispensation  from  the  Pope,  but  he 
apparently  did  not  consider  it  worth  his  while;  for,  after  a  few 
brilliant  years,  during  which  his  wife  inherited  a  peerage  in  her 
own  right  which  added  a  lustre  to  their  position,  and  a  princely 
fortune,  which  he  demolished  in  princely  fashion,  he  one  fine 
day  decamped,  nobody  knew  whither,  leaving  only  a  few  debts, 
and  a  letter  for  Lady  Clara.  'In  this  epistle,  remarkable  for  its 
eloquent  brevity,  he  informed  his  cara  sposa,  that  the  vows  taken 
at  his  entrance  into  the  Hospital  of  St.  John  rendered  their 
mutual  vows  at  the  altar  of  comparatively  little  value.  It  was 
VOL.  n.  20 


230  MERRF-MOUNT. 


no  act  of  generosity  upon  his  part  to  absolve  her  from  her 
obligations,  because,  in  reality,  they  had  never  existed. 

At  this  epoch,  he  disappeared  in  a  cloud  to  rise  again  in  the 
east,  and  although  nothing  was  absolutely  known  about,  him,  it 
seems  certain  that  he  had  for  several  years  worn  the  turban,  and 
acquired  much  celebrity  in  the  armies  of  the  grand  Seignior. 

His  oriental  residence  seems  to  have  confirmed  him  in  a  natu 
ral  taste  for  polygamy,  and  accordingly,  after  various  adventures 
of  flood,  field,  and  bower,  which  befel  him  during  his  six  or 
seven  years'  residence  in  the  east,  we  find  him  in  the  year  1623 
leading  a  second  English  bride  to  the  altar.  This  occurred  in 
Paris,  where  he  had  made  his  appearance  as  Sir  Fulk  de  Gorges, 
as  suddenly  as  if  he  had  been  thrown  there  out  of  a  volcano. 
Nobody  knew  whence  he  came.  Many  disputed  his  identity 
and  denied  his  claim  to  the  name  he  bore,  although  such  free 
thinkers  were  singularly  cautious  in  expressing  their  skepticism 
to  his  face.  His  father,  who  had  not  heard  of  him  for  nearly 
fifteen  years,  had  lately  died,  having  first  taken  the  precaution 
to  disinherit  him  of  his  younger  brother's  portion.  His  striking 
appearance,  romantic  history,  mysterious  character,  and  brilliant 
qualities,  made  a  vivid  impression  upon  the  young  and  impres 
sionable  mind  of  Edith  Maudsley,  whom  he  met  at  the  court 
of  Versailles.  Her  father,  the  representative  of  an  ancient 
and  wealthy  family  in  Wiltshire,  had  but  two  children,  Henry 
Maudsley  and  herself.  His  consent  was  reluctantly  gained  to 
the  marriage  of  his  daughter  with  the  singular  adventurer  who 
had  fascinated  her;  and  had  not  her  brother  been,  during  this 
period,  serving  in  the  Low  Countries  and  in  Germany,  it  was 
probable  that  the  marriage,  notwithstanding  the  satisfactory 
evidences  of  his  rank  which  Sir»Fulk  was  enabled  to  adduce, 
would  have  been  violently  set  aside.  Henry  Maudsley,  however, 
was  unfortunately  in  little  communication  with  his  family  or 
with  any  one  at  that  time.  It  happened  to  be  exactly  the  epoch 


MERRY-MOUNT.  331 


of  his  first  and  unsuccessful  love  for  Esther  Ludlow,  and  at  that 
time,  engrossed  by  his  own  emotions,  he  was  fiercely  courting  a 
soldier's  grave  in  a  foreign  land. 

To  hurry  briefly  to  the  conclusion  of  this  rapid  sketch  of  the 
knight's  biography,  the  newly  married  couple  passed  a  year  very 
happily  together,  partly  upon  the  continent,  and  partly  at  Mauds- 
ley  Court  and  in  London.  During  an  occasional  tour  by  him 
self  in  the  land  of  his  nativity,  it  so  happened  that  Sir  Fulk  fell 
in  with  the  beautiful  daughter  of  an  English  clergyman,  whom 
he  had  once  known  in  Italy.  The  father,  who  had  been  chap 
lain  to  a  British  embassy,  had  resided  many  years  in  Tuscany, 
arid  his  daughter,  naturally  of  a  romantic  turn,  educated  in  a 
romantic  land,  was  both  by  temperament  and  circumstances 
exactly  the  person  to  be  fascinated  by  the  graces  of  the  all- 
accomplished  chevalier,  with  whom  an  acquaintance,  began  in 
her  childhood,  upon  the  banks  of  the  yellow  Arno,  was  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  renewed  in  the  solitude  of  Shropshire. 

She  was  at  the  time  acquainted  with  a  worthy  but  eccen 
tric  young  man,  a  graduate  of  Cambridge,  who  had  recently 
taken  orders  in  the  church.  Her  father  had  been  desirous  that 
she  should  have  been  united  with  him,  although  the  young  man, 
who  was  no  other  than  William  Blaxton,  afterwards  the  eccen 
tric  hermit  of  Shawmut,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  much 
more  violently  inclined  to  the  match  than  was  the  fair  Magdalen 
herself.  They  were  however  acquainted,  and  but  for  this  acci 
dental  visit  of  the  adventurous  Sir  Fulk  de  Gorges  at  this  ob 
scure  village,  the  tenor  of  the  lives  of  both  might  have  been  far 
different. 

This  incident  happened  to  occur  but  a  few  weeks  previously 
to  a  great  domestic  catastrophe  at  Maudsley  Court.  It  so 
chanced,  that  a  certain  Lady  Hoveden  (sometimes  called  di  San 
Georgio),  one  day  made  a  pilgrimage  to  that  retired  manor 
house.  Although  her  Alpheus,  reversing  the  ancient  fable,  had 


232  MERRY-MOUNT. 


sunk,  as  he  thought,  to  the  bottom  of  the  Mediterranean,  to 
escape  his  Arethusa,  he  had  been  traced  through  all  his  doub 
lings,  and  the  deserted  and  insulted  peeress,  after  years  of 
baffled  pursuit,  had  almost  come  up  with  the  traitor  at  last. 

The  consequences  of  an  interview  between  Lady  de  Gorges 
first  and  second,  may  be  imagined.  The  gentle  Edith  Mauds- 
ley,  learning  that  she  had  not  only  been  married  to  a  monk,  but 
that  the  monk  had  already  another  wife,  was  wholly  unable  to 
survive  the  blow.  The  fearful  intelligence  was  like  fire  to 
her  brain,  and  she  died  in  a  delirious  fever  within  a  few 
weeks.  Her  father,  old  as  he  was,  went  forth  to  seek  his 
daughter's  destroyer,  who,  as  already  stated,  was  then  absent. 
A  fearful  mystery,  and  one  that  was  never  fathomed,  hung  over 
the  old  man's  fate.  All  which  was  known,  was,  that  he  had  been 
last  seen  in  the  presence  of  Sir  Fulk  de  Gorges.  Nothing  more 
was  known,  nothing  more  could  ever  be  proved ;  but  the  old 
man,  living  or  dead,  was  never  seen  again.  When  Henry 
Maudsley  returned  to  his  father's  house,  he  found  it  desolate. 
His  sister  was  laid  in  a  dishonored  grave,  and  his  father  had 
perished  by  an  unknown  fate.  He  had  searched  long,  and  in 
vain,  for  the  miscreant  whose  fearful  crimes  had  entailed  so 
much  misery  upon  a  happy  fireside,  so  much  disgrace  upon  an 
ancient  house. 

Sir  Fulk's  person  was  unknown  to  him,  although  he  had  a 
vague  impression  of  having  seen  him,  when  he  himself  was  but 
a  child.  It  was,  therefore,  rather  the  awakening  of  a  vanished 
sensation,  than  a  pure  antipathy,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  occa 
sioned  him  to  doubt  and  suspect  the  unknown  adventurer  when 
he  first  met  him  in  New  England. 

Maudsley,  however,  sought  for  the  fugitive  in  vain.  Sir  Fulk, 
fortunately  for  himself,  had  been,  as  we  have  before  stated,  ab 
sent  from  home  at  the  memorable  interview  between  his  two 
wives  ;  and  after  a  frantic  and  prolonged  search  in  England  and 


MERRY-MOUNT.  233 

on  the  continent,  Henry  Maudsley  had  been  obliged  for  a 
season  to  desist  from  the  pursuit. 

In  the  mean  time  Sir  Fulk,  assuming  the  name  of  his 
maternal  family,  had  appeared  in  Madrid  as  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner.  His  friend,  the  Duke  d'Ossuna,  who,  better  than  any 
one  else,  was  aware  of  the  frequency  with  which  he  assumed  a 
variety  of  characters,  and  the  ability  with  which  he  supported 
them,  was  not  at  all  surprised  or  unwilling  to  recognise,  in  the 
English  Chevalier  Gardiner,  his  old  and  trusty  acquaintance, 
the  Cavaliere  di  San  Giorgio,  and  proved  as  well  disposed 
towards  his  former  confidant  as  ever. 

It  was  observed  by  the  curious  impertinents  of  Madrid,  that 
the  chevalier  was  attended  by  a  young  and  very  handsome 
page,  who  appeared  exceedingly  attached  to  his  master,  and 
desirous  of  avoiding  the  acquaintance  of  others.  Magdalen 
Groves  had,  in  fact,  fallen  an  easy  victim  to  the  inconstant  and 
capricious  knight,  who,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  two  noble 
dames,  whom  he  had  led  to  the  altar,  were  disputing  the  priority 
of  their  claims  to  his  hand,  found  it  excessively  amusing  to 
carry  off  this  romantic  damsel,  in  the  very  face  of  the  furious 
pursuit  which  he  knew  would  be  opened  upon  him. 

Deceived  by  a  false  marriage  ceremony,  the  unfortunate  girl 
had  willingly  followed  the  fortunes  of  the  mysterious  object  of 
her  idolatry.  Unlike  the  two  other  dames,  to  whom  his  troth 
had  been  plighted,  Magdalen,  upon  being  frankly  informed, 
upon  their  arrival  at  Madrid,  of  the  true  position  of  matters, 
asked  but  a  single  question.  She  was  born  to  be  the  slave  of 
passion,  and  all  she  worshipped  in  the  world,  was  love.  If  she 
was  loved,  a  Puritan  could  not  have  looked  upon  wedlock's 
symbols  with  greater  indifference,  than  she  did  both  upon 
symbols  and  reality.  She  felt  no  resentment  for  the  treachery 
which  had  been  practised  upon  her,  because  she  still  allowed 
herself  to  be  persuaded  that  love,  imperishable  love,  the 
20* 


234  MERRY-MOUNT. 


golden  treasure  for  which  she  was  willing  to  sacrifice  her  all  on 
earth,  and  all  her  hopes  of  heaven,  had  been  the  cause  of  all, 
and  that  it  still  remained  unchanged,  unchangeable.  To  her 
the  whole  world  was  henceforth  nothing,  and  she  would  rather 
have  lived  the  slave  of  that  unworthy  knight,  than  the  wife  of 
an  emperor.  Without  a  murmur,  therefore,  at  the  intolerable 
deceit  to  which  she  had  been  a  victim,  and  which  she  was  now 
called  upon  to  practise  with  regard  to  others,  she  allowed  a 
fictitious  and  circumstantial  account  of  her  death  to  be  reported 
in  her  native  village.  The  tale,  supported  by  forged  testimo 
nials,  was  made  to  appear  so  credible,  that  her  few  relatives 
and  friends  were  entirely  deceived.  A  simple  monument, 
recording  her  virtues  and  her  early  doom,  was  erected  in  the 
obscure  church-yard  at  Boirdly,  and  many  a  prayer  for  the  repose 
of  Magdalen  Groves  was  uttered  by  sincere  but  deluded  lips. 

The  other  adventures  of  Sir  Fulk  de  Gorges,  or,  as  we  prefer 
still  to  designate  him,  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner,  we  pass  over 
in  silence.  We  would  simply  observe  that,  some  two  years  after 
his  flight  from  England,  his  first  interview  with  Sir  Ferdinando 
Gorges  occurred  in  Madrid,  and  that  after  a  certain  time  spent 
in  studying  the  old  knight's  character,  and  in  discussing  his 
New  England  schemes,  Sir  Christopher  decided  upon  revealing 
himself  to  his  kinsman,  after  first  exacting  from  him  a  pledge 
of  secrecy.  Sir  Ferdinando  found  that  he  had,  at  last,  dis 
covered  exactly  the  man  for  his  purpose.  Sir  Christopher 
found  an  inexpressible  charm  in  these  projects  of  enterprise, 
in  a  new  and  untried  field.  His  adventurous  temperament 
and  intriguing  disposition,  were  all  excited  by  the  vigorous 
conceptions  of  his  kinsman.  It  was  an  age  of  romance  and 
adventure.  Their  deliberations  were  held  in  Spain,  the  land 
of  chivalry,  their  projects  were  to  be  carried  out  in  the  fabu 
lous  El  Dorado  of  the  West.  Bent  upon  rivaling  Cortes  and 
Pizarro,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  John  Smith  himself,  Sir 


MERRY-MOUNT.  235 

Christopher  engaged  enthusiastically  in  the  projects  of  Sir 
Ferdinrmdo.  It  was,  moreover,  especially  convenient  for  him 
to  absent  himself,  for  a  term  of  years,  from  Europe.  He  had 
exhausted  the  golden  Orient  already,  the  West  was  full  of 
new  and  enticing  adventure.  After  considerable  delays,  the 
necessary  arrangements  were  made,  and  Sir  Christopher,  accom 
panied  by  his  page  and  a  few  servants,  among  whom  was 
Skettwarroes  the  Indian,  who  had  been  captured  in  America, 
sold  as  a  slave  in  Spain,  and  rescued  by  Sir  Ferdinando,  made 
his  first  appearance  in  the  Massachusetts. 

The  rest  of  his  adventures  the  reader  knows.  How  all  his 
plans  were  baffled,  how  his  gorgeous  visions  faded  before  the 
obscure  and  repulsive  reality,  how  the  enthusiast  of  worldly 
pomp  and  power,  saw  with  bitterness  the  foundations  of  an 
empire  laid  before  his  eyes,  by  enthusiasts  of  a  deeper  and 
a  sterner  sort,  while  his  own  energies  were  doomed  to  rust 
in  the  most  harassing  inactivity,  all  this  has  sufficiently  ap 
peared. 

If  this  early  chapter  of  New  England  annals  has  any 
meaning  in  it,  it  certainly  illustrates  the  peculiar  character 
of  the  Massachusetts  settlement.  Colonies  of  every  other 
variety  had  been  sent  to  that  inhospitable  region,  but  not  an 
impression  had  been  made  upon  its  iron  bosom.  It  was 
reserved  for  exalted,  unflinching,  self-sacrificing,  iron-handed, 
despotic,  stern,  truculent,  bigoted,  religious  enthusiasts,  men 
who  were  inspired  by  one  idea,  but  that  a  great  idea,  and 
who  were  willing  to  go  through  fire  and  water,  and  to  hew 
down  with  axes  all  material,  animal,  or  human  obstacles,  in  the 
path  which  led  to  the  development  of  their  idea ;  it  was  reserved 
for  such  men  to  accomplish  what  neither  trading  companies,  nor 
fishing  companies,  nor  land  companies,  nor  schemers  of  satrap- 
sies,  nor  dreamers  of  palatinates,  were  able  to  effect.  It  was  a 
great  movement,  not  a  military,  nor  a  philanthropic,  nor  a  demo- 


036  MERRY-MOUNT. 


cratic  movement,  but  a  religious,  perhaps  a  fanatical  movement, 
but  the  movers  were  in  earnest,  and  the  result  was  an  empire. 
The  iron  character  of  these  early  founders  left  an  impression 
upon  their  wilderness-world,  which  has  not  yet  been  effaced  ;  and 
the  character  of  their  institutions,  containing  much  that  is 
admirable,  mingled  with  many  objectionable  features,  has  dif 
fused  an  influence,  upon  the  whole,  healthy  and  conservative, 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  continent. 

We  have  witnessed,  moreover,  the  singular  manner  in  which 
the  fortunes  of  Gardiner  became  entangled  with  that  of  the  other 
leading  characters  who  have  figured  in  these  pages,  and  the 
striking  fatality  by  which  he  was  so  suddenly  brought  face  to 
face,  in  that  lonely  desert,  with  the  avenger  of  his  crimes. 
Hardly  less  singular  was  the  re-appearance,  to  the  eyes  of  the 
dreaming  Blaxton,  of  one  whom  he  had  known  in  her  innocent 
youth,  who,  he  thought,  had  long  been  consigned  to  the 
tomb,  and  for  the  repose  of  whose  soul  he  had  himself  offered 
many  a  prayer.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the  vision  had  at  first 
appalled  him,  and  that  he  had  found  it  difficult,  for  a  long  time, 
to  shake  off  the  impression  that  he  had  been  in  communion  with 
a  visitant  from  the  spiritual  world. 

As  for  Henry  Maudsley,  at  the  moment  when  he  left  the 
shores  of  New  England,  believing  that  the  mysterious  knight 
had  found  the  means  of  ingratiating  himself  in  the  affections 
both  of  Walter  Ludlow  and  his  sister,  he  had  received  but  a 
clue  only  to  the  character  of  the  adventurer,  by  the  papers 
brought  to  him  by  Cakebread.  It  was  impossible  for  him  to 
resist  the  sacred  voice  which  seemed  to  cry  out  to  him  from  the 
tomb,  to  lose  no  time,  and  to  omit  no  possible  step  which  might 
lead  to  the  unravelling  of  these  dark  mysteries.  Convinced, 
however,  as  we  have  seen,  that  the  heart  of  Esther  was  irre 
vocably  lost  to  him,  he  had  not  trusted  himself  to  see  her  before 
his  departure  ;  and  moreover,  even  if  a  full  and  free  understand- 


MERRY-MOUNT.  237 


ing  had  taken  place  between  them,  which  might  easily  have 
happened,  he  would  have  felt  under  a  no  less  imperious  neces 
sity  to  hasten  across  the  sea,  without  delay,  to  commence  at 
once  an  investigation  into  matters  of  such  deep  import. 

We  have  seen  how  the  very  first  letter  from  him  which 
reached  the  Ludlows,  opened  the  way  for  a  full  and  candid  ex 
planation  of  all  causes  of  difference  between  himself  and  Esther. 
Thereafter,  the  interchange  of  letters  was  as  frequent  as  in  those 
days  was  possible  between  the  old  world  and  the  wilderness  ;  but 
Maudsley,  in  the  prosecution  of  his  inquiries,  was  obliged  to 
consume  more  time,  and  to  traverse  a  greater  space  than  he  had 
at  first  anticipated.  When  he  at  last  made  his  appearance 
again  at  so  opportune  a  moment,  in  New  England,  he  had  forti 
fied  himself  with  the  necessary  proofs  and  documents  to  warrant 
the  apprehension  of  Gardiner,  and  his  transportation  to  England 
for  trial.  His  chagrin  at  the  evasion  of  the  knight  at  a  mo 
ment  when  he  was  himself  so  busily  occupied  in  sustaining  his 
long-lost  Esther,  may  be  easily  imagined. 


238  MERRY-MOUNT. 


C  HAPTE  R    XX. 

MAGDALEN'S  REQUIEM. 

THE  afternoon  of  the  day  upon  which  the  examination  of 
Magdalen  Groves  before  the  magistrates  had  taken  place,  was 
gloomy  and  threatening.  No  snow  had  yet  fallen  since  the 
commencement  of  the  winter,  but  there  were  now  indications 
of  a  storm. 

The  unfortunate  and  deserted  woman  accompanied  Esther, 
with  whom  as  well  as  with  Maudsley,  it  will  be  recollected,  she 
had  had  previous  but  mysterious  interviews,  to  her  own  resi 
dence.  Her  mind  seemed,  however,  in  an  apathetic  condition, 
as  if  the  severity  of  the  blows,  which  had  been  inflicted  upon 
her,  had  left  her  almost  insensible.  Her  replies  to  the  kind 
words  spoken  to  her  by  Esther,  Walter  Ludlow,  and  Maudsley 
were  brief  and  unsatisfactory.  She  appeared  humble  and  grate 
ful,  but  incommunicative  and  preoccupied.  In  answer  to  various 
suggestions,  she  constantly  repeated  that  she  would  seek  out  her 
cousin,  as  she  continued  to  call  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner. 

It  was  naturally  difficult  for  persons,  so  differently  situated 
with  regard  to  that  adventurer,  to  hold  any  very  satisfactory 
communion  together,  but  Maudsley  was  determined  that  his 
victim  should  be  enlightened  as  to  his  true  character  and  his 
perfidy.  Of  his  former  adventures  and  crimes  she  had  some 
knowledge,  but  they  had  made  no  impression  upon  her.  She 
had,  however,  more  than  suspected  the  nature  of  his  feelings 
towards  Esther,  and  had  been  nearly  driven  to  madness  in  con 
sequence  ;  but  the  knight,  with  his  usual  crafty  eloquence,  had 
been  enabled  at  last  to  lull  her  jealousy  to  sleep,  and  during 


MERRY-MOUNT.  039 


their  absence  from  Massachusetts,  there  had,  of  course,  been 
nothing  to  awaken  it  again. 

Maudsley,  however,  convinced  that  it  was  for  the  eventual 
repose  of  the  deceived  and  deserted  woman  to  be  enlightened  at 
last  upon  these  topics,  now,  as  briefly  and  tenderly  as  he  could, 
gave  her  the  true  history  of  the  previous  day's  adventure  at 
Merry-Mount,  of  which  she  had  been  in  profound  ignorance, 
and  informed  her,  moreover,  of  the  proposal  which  Gardiner  had 
made  to  him  in  a  whisper,  at  their  memorable  meeting  upon 
the  beach  at  Shawmut. 

The  unfortunate  woman  received  these  tidings  with  a  frozen 
stare,  as  if  the  poniard  which  thus  struck  her  to  the  heart 
was  so  keen,  that  it  destroyed  her  without  inflicting  a 
positive  pang.  She  made  no  reply.  Her  eye  seemed  hot  and 
tearless  ;  she  trembled  slightly,  but  uttered  not  a  syllable  of 
complaint  or  reproach.  The  slave  of  love,  she  who  had  sacri 
ficed  all  for  love,  who  had  pardoned  treachery,  coldness,  cruelty, 
while  she  still  believed  herself  the  object  of  love,  now  saw  her 
self,  beyond  all  possibility  of  doubt,  both  despised  and  hated. 

At  her  urgent  entreaty,  she  was  left  to  herself,  for  a  little 
while.  The  night  had  already  set  in.  The  wind  howled  dis 
mally  through  the  leafless  groves  which  surrounded  the  Lud- 
lows'  cottage.  The  indications  of  the  afternoon  had  not  been 
deceptive,  and  a  driving,  blinding,  snow-storm  combined  with 
the  raging  wind  and  the  benumbing  cold,  to  make  a  fearful 
night.  It  seemed  impossible  that  any  living  soul  would  willingly 
brave  the  terrors  of  such  a  tempest. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  Esther  looked  into  the  room  where  Mag 
dalen  was  still  sitting,  or  rather  crouching  in  the  same  attitude 
in  which  she  had  been  left.  As  she,  however,  manifested  con 
siderable  repugnance  to  any  communication  at  present,  and 
seemed  still  in  a  stunned  and  almost  a  lethargic  state,  Esther 
thought  that  it  was  useless  to  force  upon  her  common-place 


240  MERRY-MOUNT. 

consolation  which  was  thus  decidedly  rejected.  Earnestly  im 
ploring  her,  however,  to  address  herself  to  God  for  support  and 
consolation,  and  gently  advising  her  to  seek  repose,  if  riot  sleep, 
as  soon  as  possible,  she  withdrew  for  the  night. 

About  an  hour  afterwards,  Magdalen,  who  had  still  remained 
motionless,  in  her  solitary  position  near  the  hearth,  where  huge 
burning  logs  threw  a  fitful  glare  about  the  rude  apartment, 
suddenly  started  to  her  feet,  as  if  the  whole  truth  had  suddenly, 
and  for  the  first  time,  glared  upon  her,  with  a  horrible  and 
unquenchable  light. 

"  I  will  seek  the  traitor,"  said  she  to  herself,  in  a  low,  hoarse 
voice.  Without  another  word,  and  with  noiseless  steps,  she  went 
from  the  room,  opened  the  outer  door,  and  then  glided  forth, 
like  a  ghost,  into  the  midnight  storm.  The  snow,  whirling  thick 
and  fast  before  the  hurricane,  had  already,  like  a  white  deluge, 
changed  the  face  of  the  wilderness.  She  moved  on  without  M 
sensation  of  fear,  for  she  found  something  congenial  in  that 
opaque  and  boundless  gloom,  while  the  wintry  cold  and  the  driv 
ing  snow  felt  grateful  to  her  burning  brain.  For  many  minutes 
she  moved  along,  abandoning  herself  as  it  were  to  the  fierce 
delight  of  mingling  with  an  elemental  tempest,  as  wild  and 
desolate  as  that  which  was  sweeping  her  soul.  At  last  the 
excitement  of  her  brain  gradually  began  to  yield  before  the 
benumbing  effects  of  the  cold,  and  the  difficulty  of  making 
her  way  through  the  heavy  drifts  and  the  constantly  increasing 
storm.  How  long  and  how  far  she  had  wandered,  she  knew 
not;  but  at  last  the  fury  of  her  emotions  seemed  to  have  abated, 
a  delicious  calm  came  over  her,  she  sank  upon  the  ground, 
breathed  a  prayer  of  forgiveness  for  herself  for  her  enemies, 
and  so  fell  asleep  for  ever.  The  driving  hurricane  wrapped 
her  as  she  slept  in  an  icy  winding  sheet,  and  the  wintry  wind 
sounded  her  requiem  in  the  tossing  pine  branches. 


MERRY-MOUNT. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

CONCLUSION. 

WITHIN  the  territory  of  the  Plymouth  colony,  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Namaskett  River,  six  figures  lay  closely  concealed  in  a 
thicket  of  alders.  Two  of  the  individuals  thus  lying  in  ambush 
were  officers  in  the  service  of  the  Massachusetts  company,  Cap 
tain  Underbill  and  Lieutenant  Dudley  ;  the  other  four  were 
savages.  The  six  composed  a  hunting  party,  which,  after 
months  of  unremitting  search,  had  at  last  come  up  for  the  first 
time  wiih  their  game.  The  game  was  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner, 
and  after  having  been  often  baffled,  they  were  at  last  upon  his 
track. 

Immediately  upon  his  disappearance,  as  related  in  some  of  the 
preceding  pages,  the  government  of  Massachusetts  had  sent  in 
pursuit  of  him.  He  had,  however,  escaped  their  vigilance,  and, 
assisted  by  the  Indians  of  his  neighborhood,  with  whom  he  had 
maintained  friendly  relations,  he  had  nearly  succeeded  in  making 
his  escape  to  Virginia.  The  winter  had,  however,  proved  so 
inclement  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  defer  his  expedition 
thither,  till  the  opening  of  the  spring,  and  in  the  mean  time,  to 
lead  a  wandering  life  among  the  savages. 

Information  had,  however,  been  brought  to  Governor  Brad 
ford  of  Plymouth,  by  some  of  the  Indians  inhabiting  that  colony, 
of  the  place  where  the  knight  kept  himself  concealed.  Com 
munications  upon  the  subject  of  the  fugitive,  and  upon  the 
importance  of  securing  his  person,  having  previously  been  ex 
changed  between  Bradford  and  the  Massachusetts  governor, 
orders  were  given  by  the  magistrates  of  Plymouth  for  his  imme- 

YOL.    II.  21 


242  MERRY-MOUNT. 


diate  arrest,  and  a  considerable  reward  promised  to  his  captors. 
Many  of  the  Plymouth  Indians,  desirous  of  earning  the  proffered 
bounty,  were  very  willing  to  undertake  the  adventure,  provided 
the  price  were  set  upon  his  scalp. 

Such  was  the  knight's  reputation  for  desperate  courage  and 
skill,  that  the  attempt  to  secure  his  person  alive,  as  was  proposed 
by  the  magistrates,  was  considered  a  very  hazardous  undertak 
ing.  As  all,  however,  who  engaged  in  the  pursuit,  were  abso 
lutely  forbidden  by  the  government  both  of  Massachusetts  and 
Plymouth  to  take  his  life,  the  chase  became  more  hazardous 
and  less  attractive. 

Had  the  price  been  set  upon  his  head,  it  was  probable  that  it 
would  very  soon  have  been  brought  before  the  tribunal.  As  his 
living  person  was  required,  it  became  at  last  very  doubtful 
whether  he  would  be  secured,  and  it  was  even  supposed  by  many 
that  he  had  already  effected  his  escape  to  Virginia. 

Upon  a  bright  morning  in  the  latter  part  of  April,  the  party 
already  mentioned  lay  concealed  in  the  still  leafless  thickets 
which  bordered  the  Namaskett  River.  Intelligence  had  been 
brought  to  them  by  a  treacherous  Indian,  in  whom  Gardiner  had 
been  obliged  to  repose  confidence,  that  he  was  that,  morning  to 
descend  the  river  in  a  canoe.  The  party  lay  with  their  ears 
close  to  the  ground,  listening  and  watching  like  blood-hounds 
for  the  faintest  symptoms  of  his  approach.  At  last,  from  a  con 
siderable  distance  above  them,  the  light  drip  of  an  oar  fell  upon 
their  ears.  It  was  evident  that  the  scout  had  not  deceived  them. 
The  Englishmen  had  their  rapiers  and  fire-arms,  as  usual,  but 
the  savages  were  provided  only  with  long  poles,  to  which  strong 
hooks  were  attached.  As  the  necessity  of  taking  their  game 
alive  had  been  so  strongly  impressed  upon  the  party,  the  Indians 
had  been  deprived  of  their  customary  weapons  of  war,  lest  their 
forbearance  should  be  too  heavily  taxed. 

After   a  few   breathless  moments  of  delay,  the  canoe  came 


MERRY-MOUNT.  243 

slowly  floating  down  the  stream.  It  was  Sir  Christopher 
Gardiner  indeed  who  sat  within  that  frail,  birchen  bark,  but  how 
changed  in  appearance  from  the  brilliant  Sir  Fulk  de  Gorges. 
His  dress  was  squalid,  his  features,  emaciated  by  fasting,  vigils 
and  exposure,  were  almost  overgrown  by  his  coal-black  beard  ; 
while  the  fierce  light  which  shone  from  his  sunken  and  cavern 
ous  eyes,  seemed  an  unholy  and  sepulchral  flame.  He  appeared, 
however,  calm  and  self-possessed,  and  his  head,  at  the  slightest 
rustle  in  the  bushes,  turned  with  its  quick,  snake-like  move 
ment,  seeming  almost  to  anticipate  the  arrival  of  every  sound. 

No  sooner  hid  the  canoe  floated  past  the  lurking  place  of  the 
party,  than,  at  a  nod  from  Captain  Underbill,  two  of  the  savages 
plunged  into  the  stream,  and  swam  boldly  towards  the  knight. 
Although  the  movement  had  been  as  stealthy  and  as  noiseless  as 
possible,  Gardiner  confronted  them  in  an  instant  with  his  match 
lock  at  his  cheek.  The  Indians  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
one  of  them  advanced.  In  another  instant,  there  was  a  flash,  a 
report,  a  yell,  and  the  blood  of  the  foremost  savage  dyed  the 
placid  waters  of  the  river.  The  other  Indian  dived  below  the 
surface,  and  regained  the  shore.  The  knight  profited  by  the 
interval  to  re-load  his  piece. 

In  the  mean  time,  however,  the  two  other  Indians,  running 
along  in  advance  of  the  canoe,  which  was  slowly  floating  down 
the  sluggish  river,  had  in  their  turn  leaped  into  the  water,  and 
were  now  close  upon  the  enemy ;  while  at  the  same  time  the 
savage  who  had  at  first  retreated,  finding  himself  supported 
by  his  companions,  had  again  advanced  to  the  attack,  and  the 
three,  armed  with  their  long-hooked  poles,  now  surrounded  the 
canoe. 

At  this  moment  Captain  Underbill  emerged  from  the  thicket, 
and,  standing  upon  the  edge  of  the  river,  called  upon  Sir  Chris 
topher  Gardiner  to  yield  to  the  authority  of  the  Massachusetts 
company.  To  this  the  knight  replied  by  a  bullet,  which  struck 
a  Lirch  tree,  within  a  few  inches  of  the  captain's  head. 


244  MERRY-MOUNT. 


The  tiger  stood  at  bay  at  last,  and  it  was  evident  that  he 
meant  to  sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible.  The  odds  were  now 
five  to  one,  and  two  of  the  five  were  well-armed  Englishmen- 
Had  the  party  not  been  hampered  by  their  instructions  to  secure 
their  fugitive  with  as  little  injury  to  his  person  as  possible,  the 
combat  would  have  been  of  very  short  duration.  As  it  was, 
before  Gardiner  had  time  to  reload  his  matchlock,  the  three  sav 
ages  had  adroitly  succeeded  in  overturning  his  boat.  The  knight 
fell  into  the  stream,  and  unfortunately  his  gun  and  his  rapier, 
which  he  had  drawn  but  laid  down  for  a  moment,  while  engaged 
with  his  fire-arm,  both  sank  in  the  water.  He  had  now  no 
weapon  but  his  dagger,  with  which  he  desperately  defended 
himself,  at  the  same  time  that  he  made  an  effort  to  swim  to  the 
opposite  shore.  The  boldest  and  most  active  of  the  savages, 
however,  strove  to  intercept  him,  but  Gardiner,  closing  with 
him  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  dealt  him  such  a  wound  that 
he  sank  below  the  surface  with  a  terrific  howl,  and  was  after 
wards  observed  crawling,  more  dead  than  alive,  upon  the  sandy 
margin  of  the  stream. 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  other  Indians  had  been  furiously  be 
laboring  the  knight  with  their  long  heavy  poles,  with  which  they 
inflicted  many  severe  and  benumbing  contusions,  and  both  at 
last  succeeded  in  fixing  their  hooks  in  different  parts  of  his 
dress.  At  the  same  moment  Captain  Underbill  and  Lieutenant 
Dudley  plunged  into  the  stream,  and  swam  straight  towards  him. 

Thus,  in  the  middle  of  a  deep  river,  beset  by  two  savages  and 
two  armed  Englishmen,  and  having  himself  no  weapon  but  his 
dagger,  did  the  desperate  knight  gallantly  maintain  the  unequal 
combat.  It  was  evident,  however,  to  himself  as  well  as  to  his 
enemies,  that  his  time  was  come.  Fairly  harpooned,  as  it  were, 
and  almost  dragged  under  water  by  the  savages,  stunned  and 
bruised  by  the  blows  which  they  had  showered  upon  him, 
and  attacked  by  two  fresh  and  vigorous  enemies,  escape  was 
now  impossible.  A  surrender,  however,  he  did  not  contemplate 


MERRY-MOUNT.  045 

On  the  contrary,  he  kept  himself  floating  and  almost  motionless 
in  the  water  till  Underhill  was  within  his  reach,  then  suddenly 
clutching  him  by  the  throat,  he  raised  his  dagger  with  a  last  and 
desperate  effort.  At  that  very  instant,  Dudley,  who  had  ap 
proached  him  upon  the  other  side,  struck  the  weapon,  by  a 
sudJcn  movement,  from  his  grasp.  Thus  disarmed,  Gardiner 
threw  his  arms  around  Underbill's  neck,  locked  him  in  a 
fierce  embrace,  and  sank  with  him  into  the  stream.  Here  the 
t\vo,  clasped  in  each  others  arms,  might  have  reposed  till  the  last 
trumpet  sounded,  had  not  Dudley  directed  the  savages  to  drag 
at  Gardiner  with  all  their  strength.  The  harpoons  held,  the 
savages  soon  gained  the  margin  of  the  narrow  stream,  and  with 
great  exertion,  but  in  a  brief  space  of  time,  succeeded  in  drag 
ging  the  bodies  of  Gardiner  and  Underhill  from  the  river,  and 
laying  them  upon  the  bank. 

Underbill  soon  recovered,  but  it  was  for  a  long  time  doubtful 
whether  the  suspended  animation  of  the  knight  would  be  re 
stored.  After  a  long  interval,  however,  during  which  the  two 
unwounded  savages  watched  for  his  recovery  with  great  anxiety, 
fearing  lest,  with  his  departing  spirit,  should  slip  from  their  grasp 
the  reward  for  which  they  had  so  vigilantly  toiled  ;  after  a  period 
of  great  uncertainty  and  suspense,  Gardiner  at  length  recovered 
his  senses.  His  iron  frame  was,  however,  fairly  prostrated, 
although  his  heart  remained  as  stubborn  and  undismayed  as 
ever. 


This  tale,  protracted  far  beyond  the  extent  originally  antici 
pated,  now  draws  to  its  close.  Sir  Christopher  Gardiner,  after 
his  capture,  as  above  related,  was  brought,  by  Underhill  and 
Dudley,  to  Boston,  where  he  was  kept  in  strict  custody  until 
despatched  to  England  to  answer  for  his  various  private  and 
political  crimes.  In  the  same  vessel  with  himself,  was  sent 
21* 


24(5  MERRY-MOUNT. 


prisoner,  one  Philip  RatclifF,  originally  a  servant  of  Matthew 
Cradock,  who  had  been  guilty  of  uttering  reproaches  against 
the  church  of  Salem,  and  company  of  the  Massachusetts.  For 
this  offence,  the  government  had  cut  off  his  ears,  whipped  him 
severely,  and  banished  him  from  the  territory.  Gardiner, 
although  himself  a  prisoner,  had  remonstrated  with  the  magis 
trates  upon  the  severity  of  this  punishment,  and  in  consequence 
of  his  exhortations,  the  branding,  which  had  formed  a  part  of 
the  original  sentence,  was  omitted. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  Gardiner  in  England,  he  met  with  no 
punishment.  The  proofs  of  his  principal  offences  were  wanting. 
Maudsley,  upon  mature  consideration  of  the  effect  of  such  a 
proceeding,  and  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  Esther,  declined 
to  prosecute  him  before  the  criminal  tribunals,  and  Lady 
Hoveden  had  died  some  years  before.  Under  the  name  of  Sir 
Christopher  Gardiner,  and  in  his  altered  person,  there  were 
none  in  England  to  recognise  the  once  celebrated  Fulk  de 
Gorges,  excepting  always  his  kinsman  Sir  Ferdinando. 

Gardiner  found  that  his  friend  Morton  had  been  right,  in 
supposing  that  Sir  Ferdinando  had  grown  lukewarm  in  the 
New  England  schemes.  Morton,  Gardiner,  and  Ratcliff,  how 
ever,  continued  for  some  years  to  prefer  complaints  before  the 
Lords  of  the  Privy  Council,  against  the  government  of  the 
Massachusetts  colony,  in  which  they  were  sustained  by  Gorges. 
The  despotic  nature  of  their  government,  as  illustrated  in  the 
savage  punishment  inflicted  for  a  few  idle  words  upon  Rat- 
cliff,  was  handled  against  the  colony  with  considerable  effect. 
A  petition,  exhibited  by  Gardiner,  Gorges,  Mason,  and  others, 
against  both  the  Plymouth  and  the  Massachusetts  company,  was 
heard  before  the  privy  council,  and  afterwards  reported  to  the 
king.  They  were  accused,  by  the  petitioners,  of  "  an  intention 
to  rebel  and  to  cast  off  their  allegiance,  and  to  be  wholly  separate 
from  the  church  of  England,  and  that  their  ministers  and  people 


MERRY-MOUNT.  247 


continually  railed  again  -t  the  church,  state,  and  bishops."  A 
general  o;overnment  was  urged  as  a  remedy.  The  colony  was, 
however,  powerful.  Sir  Richard  Saltonstall,  Mr.  Humphrey, 
and  Mr.  Cradock,  were  heard  before  a  committee  of  the  council, 
and  defended  the  cause  of  Massachusetts  with  such  ability  and 
earnestness,  that  all  thought  of  a  quo  warranto  against  the 
charter  was  relinquished,  and  an  order  of  council  passed,  ex 
pressing  approval  of  the  general  conduct,  both  of  the  Massa 
chusetts  and  Plymouth  governments,  and  pledging  the  crown  to 
sustain  their  liberties  and  privileges  as  by  charter  granted,  with 
"  any  thing  further  that  might  tend  to  the  good  government, 
prosperity,  and  comfort  of  the  people  there  of  that  place." 

Sir  Ferdinando,  whose  son  had,  in  the  mean  time,  mar 
ried  Lady  Frances,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  and 
sister  to  Lady  Susan  Humphrey  and  Lady  Arabella  John 
son,  became  probably  less  inclined  to  quarrel  with  a  colony 
with  some  of  whose  most  eminent  names  lie  was  thus  intimately 
allied.  Tired  with  his  fruitless  and  expensive  exertions,  he, 
after  a  time,  contented  himself  with  modelling  and  arranging  his 
province  of  Maine  in  the  most  aristocratic  and  feudal  fashion, 
obtaining,  in  1639,  a  confirmed  grant  of  the  whole  province 
with  the  title  of  Lord  Palatine.  The  great  council  of  Plymouth 
had  previously  (in  1635)  surrendered  their  charter,  the  renewed 
attempt  to  divide  the  whole  territory  of  New  England  into 
lordships,  with  a  revocation  of  the  Massachusetts  patent,  and 
an  appointment  of  a  general  governor,  having  again  failed. 

Gardiner  never  returned  to  New  England.  The  Lord  of 
Merry-Mount  returned  in  1643,  having,  in  the  mean  time, 
enraged  the  colonists  by  his  satirical  performance  called  the 
New  English  Canaan.  He  was  kept  in  prison  for  a  year, 
fined  ,£100,  which  he  was  unable  to  pay,  and  nothing  but  his 
"old  age  and  craziness"  saved  him  from  the  whipping-post. 
He  went  to  Agamenticus  within  the  palatinate  of  Sir  Ferdi- 


248  MERRY-MOUNT. 


nando  Gorges,  and  "  living  there  poor  and  despised,  died  within 
two  years  after." 

Thomas  Walford,  the  smith  of  Mishawum,  remained  but  a 
short  time  in  Chirlestown.  The  same  year  in  which  our  story 
closes,  he  and  his  wife  were  ordered  to  depart  out  of  the  limits 
of  the  patent,  before  the  20th  October,  under  pain  of  confisca 
tion  of  his  goods.  His  offence  was  stated  to  be  "  contempt  of 
authority,  and  confronting  officers."  Two  years  afterwards  his 
goods  were  sequestered  and  placed  in  the  hands  of  one  Ancient 
Gennison,  to  satisfy  some  debts  owed  by  him  in  the  bay.  He 
removed  to  Piscataqua  (Portsmouth)  where  he  became  an 
important  and  respected  citizen.  His  wife,  twenty-five  years 
afterwards,  when  the  bloom  of  youth  had  faded,  was  presented 
by  her  neighbors  as  a  witch,  but,  the  palmy  days  of  witch- 
huntin.g  not  having  arrived,  she  was  not  only  acquitted  of  the 
charge,  but  recovered  damages  against  one  who  had  called  her 
by  the  odious  name.  The  blacksmith  lived  to  a  good  old  age, 
and  left,  at  his  death,  a  competent  estate  to  his  children. 

Bootefish  and  Rednape,  soon  after  the  lamentable  decease  of 
their  compeer  Peter  Cakebread,  emigrated  to  Virginia,  whither 
the  Canary  Bird  had  flown  before  them.  The  domain  of  Merry- 
Mount  was  divided  off  in  lots,  and  settled  principally  by  citizens 
of  Boston. 

As  for  the  hermit  Blaxton,  he  soon  found  it  impossible  to 
exist  among  what  seemed  to  him  the  uproarious  multitude, 
which  now  thronged  his  sylvan  peninsula.  He  lingered  irreso 
lutely  for  a  year  or  two,  as  loth  to  leave  the  scenes  endeared  to 
him  by  his  long  and  solitary  residence,  but  at  last  he  made  up 
his  mind  that  there  was  no  room  left  for  him  in  his  much  loved 
Shawmut,  and  so,  taking  his  pilgrim's  staff  in  hand,  he  wandered 
forth  into  the  wilderness  again. 

Upon  the  east  bank  of  the  river,  which  still  perpetuates  his 
name,  a  pyramidal  mound  of  alluvial  earth  rises  to  the  height  of 


MERRY-MOUNT.  349 


severity  feet.  Near  that  mound,  then  covered  with  majestic 
forest  trees,  the  exile  again  pitched  his  tent.  His  cottage  he 
called  Study  Hall ;  the  mound,  which  became  his  favorite  haunt, 
he  called  Study  Hill.  Thither  he  brought  his  library  and  all 
his  worldly  goods,  there  he  planted  his  orchard  again,  and  there 
he  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  and  died  with  singular  good  fortune, 
a  few  weeks  previously  to  the  commencement  of  the  bloody  war 
of  Philip,  in  which  his  house  was  laid  in  ashes,  his  collection 
of  books  and  manuscripts  destroyed,  and  nothing  spared  but  his 
grave. 

Maudsley  and  Esther  Ludlow  were  united  in  the  summer  of 
16'M,  and  the  happiness  of  their  union  more  than  atoned  for  the 
misfortunes  and  trials  by  which  it  had  been  preceded. 


And  now,  patient  reader,  if  haply  a  spark  of  sympathy 
for  the  heroic  souls,  who  in  sorrow  and  self-denial  laid  the 
foundation  of  this  fair  inheritance  of  ours,  hath  been  awak 
ened  in  thy  bosom  ;  or  if  but  a  single  hour  of  thine  own 
weariness  or  sadness  hath  been  solaced  by  this  feeble  picture  of 
a  buried  but  an  unforgotten  age,  my  humble  end  will  have  been 
answered. 

With  a  gentle  pressure  of  thy  hand,  I  bid  thee  farewell 
forever, 


NOTES. 


NOTE    I. 

THE  Preface  to  Beauchamp  Plantagenet's  work,  printed  in  the  year  1618,  be 
gins  thus : — 

"This  Epistle  and  Preface  shows  Cato's  best  rules  for  a  Plantation. 

ci  To  the  right  honorable  and  mighty  Lord  Edmund,  by  Divine  Providence 
Lord  Proprietor,  Earl  Palatine,  Governor  and  Captain-Gencrall  of  the  Province 
of  New  Albion  *  *  *  *  and  to  all  other  the  Viscounts,  Barons,  Baronets, 
Knights,  Gentlemen,  Merchants,  Adventurers  and  Planters  of  the  hopefull  Com 
pany  of  New  Albion,  in  all  44  undertakers  and  subscribers,  bound  by  Indenture 
to  bring  and  settle  3000  able,  trained  men  in  our  said  severall  Plantations  in  the 
said  Province, 

"  Beauchamp  Plantagenet,  of  Belvil,  in  New  Albion,  Esquire,  one  of  the  Com 
pany,  wishes  all  health,  happinesse,  and  heavenly  blessings,"  &c.  &c. 

NOTE    II. 

See  Morton's  New  English  Canaan  (pp.  62,  63)  for  an  account  of  the  various 
remarkable  fountains  of  Massachusetts. 

NOTE    III. 

It  is  a  pity  that  this  picturesque  chain  of  hills  should,  after  bearing  several 
very  good  names,  have  subsided  at  last  into  the  anonymous.  As  all  hills  are 
blue,  Blue  Hill  is  no  name  at  all. 

NOTE    IV. 

The  critic  who  would  object  to  the  locality  of  Blaxton's  homestead,  is  in 
formed,  that,  according  to  recent  and  impregnable  authority,  the  hermit's  "six 
acre  lot ;)  faced  the  Common,  and  was  washed  by  the  waters  of  the  Western 
Cove. 


252  NOTES. 


NOTE    V. 

Morton  says  that  his  poem,  "  being  enigmatically  composed,  puzzled  the  Sep 
aratists  most  pitifully  to  expound  it."  It  would  puzzle  all  the  pundits  in  exist 
ence  to  expound  it  now.  For  example,  thus  he  sets  forth  : 

Rise  CEdipeus,  and  if  thou  canst,  unfold 
What  means  Charybdis  underneath  the  mould, 
When  Scilla  solitary  on  the  ground 
Sitting  in  form  of  Niobe  was  found; 
Till  Amphitrite's  Darling  did  acquaint 
Grim  Neptune  with  the  tenor  of  her  plaint 
And  caused  him  send  forth  Triton  with  the  sound 
Of  Trumpet  loud,  at  which  the  seas  were  found. 
So  full  of  Protean  forms  that  the  bold  shore 
Presented  Scilla  a  new  paramour. 
I  do  professe  by  Cupid's  beauteous  mother 
Here 's  Scogan's  choice  for  Scilla  and  none  other, 
&c.  «&c.  &c. 

NOTE   VI. 

See  the  New  English  Canaan. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  S£ 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediatgjrecall. 

td 


NOV 


P  IP 


BEC'DLD   JUL2 
MOV  14  1975Q 


re- 


tt 

-ear 


4 


g      < 

UJ 


UN  23  19721  5 


b'/Z-12  KM 


1  197^ 


-r— 


JUL26  197407  W  cm  "' 'JUH 


1    1Q7P        General  Library 
\)     I J  I  0  University  of  California 
Berkeley 


tETURN    CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

ro—  +>    202  Main  Library 

OAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

i 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling        642-3405 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


1 7 1357 


ORAA  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


PS 


